War of Angels III: Countdown
by The Aberrant One
Summary: Third Story in the Series. After Buddy's "escape" from Aeon's custody, shock waves are sent throughout the world; some of them subtle, some of them not so subtle. Regardless, his escape has started a a chain of events that will plunge the world into chaos...and he's just getting started.
1. Ten

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Incredibles...that's Disney/Pixar/Brad Bird. Don't own Aberrant...that would be White Wolf (but if I win the lotto...expect me to buy those rights dammit!) Null (who appears at the end of this) was created by NullChronicler and stolen (with permission) by me. Damon Best (though not appearing yet, but mentioned briefly) was created by Pixfan...and also stolen (with her blessing) by me.

 **Author's Notes:** Hey, every one, Aberrant One here. And the revising/updating/reposting continues. As you noticed, I deleted all the Countdown stories and putting them all together into one story with some corrections and making them part of the "War of Angels" series. As usual, feedback, comments, and maybe the occasional threat are welcome.

* * *

" _According to the Global Geological Studies Institute in Calcutta, a major earthquake hit somewhere in the Indian Ocean, causing several tsunamis to form off the coast of Africa..."_

-CNN

" _Though it has been a week since the coast of Somalia was devastated by several Tsunami, we are seeing the aftermath of destruction caused by forces of that can only be described as nearly biblical proportions."_

-N!Channel news.

" _There has been some speculation that this might not have been a natural phenomenon, that there might have been other forces involved..."_

-NBC News

" _There has been speculation by Utopia officials that there might have been a 'rogue nova' behind the tragedy of Somalia. However, there have been accusations by some world governments, such as China and the United States that Project Utopia maintained several ocean facilities in the Indian Ocean, and that there might have been an incident regarding one of these sites."_

-Fox News

" _Already, the anti-Utopia conservative nutjobs at Fox are accusing Project Utopia for what caused this when we already know the answer: Global damage and climate change caused by the greedy bastards who ran the world before Utopia was formed. Unfortunately, those assholes still have power here in the United States, denying us our true proper place with Project Utopia."_

-Air America, "The Brandi Miller show"

" _And already, the finger pointing has begun. The Teragen did it, Utopia did it, some rogue nova did it, China did it, the US did it, Mother Nature did it, my neighbor's cat did it...and the blame game continues. In the meantime, whoever or whatever caused this is probably out there somewhere laughing their asses off. And then you got us...the lowly mortals on this world who are sitting here watching our leaders point fingers at each other and wondering which one of these idiots is going to make that one big mistake and pushes that shiny little red button that blows up the world. You know...maybe I should come up with a 'Doomsday betting board'."_

-XM Radio, "The Duke Rollo Show"

* * *

Bob Parr had faced many challenges in his life, both as a super and as a husband and father. Of course, having a family full of supers blurred the lines some of the time. Facing off against Doctor Destroyer, that was one of his early challenges as a superhero and probably the first time he actually faced certain death. Marrying Helen and raising a family...that was a challenge that he almost failed because he was focusing on the fact that the glory days had been taken away from him, but he, and his family, managed to pull through in the end. Then there was the time Violet started dating, which brought about a whole new set of challenges (and, in some cases, some really funny moments).

But through it all, Bob had classified all these challenges into one of two groups: "super" and "non-super". Though he admitted that it was an oversimplification of things, this system worked for Bob, especially since he really didn't consider himself an overly complex person. However, after the incident with Syndrome, he learned that one set of problems didn't outweigh the other set and that they both had to be dealt with.

However...this time, the challenge he faced didn't fall into either category, because it didn't just hit close to home on both fronts...it completely rocked everything he believed in to the core of his being. Yes, when the Galatea incident happened eight years ago, triggering a new generation of super-powered beings, he knew the world was changing...but he never realized how much it had changed. Back in his "glory days", it was easy to tell the good guys from the bad, what was right, what was wrong...but now, in this "new age of the nova", nothing was as it seemed.

In hindsight, he should have seen this coming. After all, when David Flynn literally showed up on their doorstep a few months ago, he should have taken it as a sign of what was to come...or, at the very least, tossed the little punk into the next state. In fact, when Violet was approached by Flynn about working for his company, Bob was very tempted to see if he can throw David across the state of Nevada and into Utah, especially after the battle at SST when members of Team Tomorrow and Project Utopia, led by Kari McKeen, attacked his little girl.

 _Actually, that's not fair...she's not that little and she handled herself well out there._

Despite that thought, Bob, like any loving father, was still protective of his "little girl". What made it even worse was the fact that Jack, his youngest son, was involved. Again, Bob briefly considered playing "Toss Syndrome's Bastard into Utah", but managed to suppress that urge. He might have been a protective father, but he was no killer. However, that didn't prevent him from throttling the boy for a few seconds.

But if Bob thought that was the worst that could happen, it was the little bombshell David dropped on him in the form of a tiny flashdrive that proved him wrong. He still recalled that conversation only a few weeks ago as if it just happened yesterday.

" _ **They know who you are, Mr. Parr," David said as he got up out of his chair. "They always knew...I'm willing to bet they knew the moment Kari McKeen joined up with them and they restored her memory." He walked around his desk, stopping only a few feet away from Bob. "Although, I will level with you, Mr. Parr. You're right about me, I do have an agenda of my own, but believe me when I say that it doesn't include anything so petty as a 'vendetta' with you and your family." He pulled a tiny flash-drive out of his pocket and held it in front of Bob. "You don't believe me, take this home and go through it. Just make sure your computer isn't linked to the net when you access it because it won't work."**_

" _ **What is it?" Bob cautiously took the tiny drive from David's hand. Though his instinct to beat the punk to a pulp was still there, his curiosity and the serious tone in the young man's voice stopped him.**_

" _ **Oh...just a few things, full video footage of what happened last night, some intercepted audio transmissions from T2M headquarters, and various other goodies that will prevent you from sleeping at night." Again, David Flynn's voice had taken a grim and serious tone as he started to make his way to the door. When he opened the door, he looked back over his shoulder. "If you don't believe me or the stuff on that drive, call up your buddy Dicker."**_

" _ **What do you mean by that?"**_

 _ **David leaned against the door frame of his office, looking down at the ground for a couple seconds before responding. "That the 'good old days' of heroes and villains are gone, Mr. Parr," he finally said. "Everything that you believed in and fought for doesn't matter anymore...because in the end, we're all just pawns to those with real power and the desire to use and abuse it."**_

Bob felt a chill when David said that. He wasn't sure why, perhaps it was the way the boy talked, that tone of voice that held a sense of dread that something was coming and couldn't be stopped. It wasn't until he took the flashdrive home and viewed its contents that the chill not only returned, but pretty much remained with him afterwards. He didn't get much sleep after that, especially when he confronted Dicker who confirmed everything that was on that drive.

So now, here he was, sitting at a picnic table in a city park, twirling the flashdrive in his hand as he waited for Lucius to meet him. One of the things that scared the hell out of him was a particular "contingency plan for dealing with rogue novas" involving the deployment of what they called a "Nova Assault Droid" that looked all too similar to Syndrome's Omnidroid. What scared him wasn't the fact that they had plans for the machine, but the fact that they had improved on the design and there were at least six manufactured and in storage.

 _How did this happen? No...how did WE let this happen? How did we not see this coming?_

Those questions had haunted him the last few weeks and he still didn't have any answers. Sure, when new superhumans, now called "novas" began to surface worldwide, he knew change was coming. He even partially approved of what Project Utopia, though he had some reservations about some "incidents", but no organization was perfect and almost always had some flaws.

What he saw on that flashdrive, however, showed that there more than a few flaws. One of the other files was the complete surveillance data packet done on not just himself, but his entire family. Where they lived, where the kids went to school, where Violet worked (prior to her taking the job at SST), where Dash and his friends hung out, where Helen shopped or spent time with her friends...they even had him under surveillance the day he first confronted David Flynn, complete with attached datamarks that displayed his power levels and how much force was to be used to contain him.

The bastards even had their star front man, Caestus Pax, waiting to strike if Bob took what they had described as "potential hostile action of any kind." While Bob knew that he was probably one of the strongest supers on the planet, he knew that Pax was more powerful and could probably beat him. But what bothered Bob the most was that he had always thought Pax was a hero like himself...sure, maybe a little arrogant and cocky, but he never thought that Pax. or the supposedly benevolent organization he worked for, would actually target him.

 _But they didn't come after me, they targeted Violet and Jack._

"Damn," he heard someone say. "You keep brooding like that, they'll be calling you Mr. Depressionable."

Bob looked up to see a tall black man with a goatee holding a coffee cup in each hand. "Thanks for coming, Lucius."

Lucius set one of the coffee on the table and then sat down across from his friend. "You know," he said, pausing a moment to take a sip of his mocha. "The last time we had one of these so called 'clandestine' meetings, we were telling our wives it was 'bowling night' and we would spend the night listening to the police scanner listening for 'criminal activity', talking about our glory days." He took another sip of his coffee and gave Bob a sad smile. "Who'd have thought, less than a decade later, those days would have returned?"

Bob looked up from the table at Lucius. "Have they, Lucius?" he asked. "Have they really?"

"Look around you, Bob," Lucius said, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. Having known Bob for over twenty years, he could tell something was tearing at his best friend. "The world's changing, supers are allowed to operate out in public...though I don't know why they keep wanting to call us 'novas', but I can get over that. I mean...for crying out loud, a lot of these people are being allowed to not only use their power in public, but they're now marketing out their images and making lots of money."

Bob gave his best friend a tiny grin. "Maybe they'll have us do a cartoon show."

Lucius' reaction was priceless...he choked on his coffee. "That's not funny, Bob," he managed to gasp out. "I still have nightmares about that show...and that...rabbit thing."

"I hear they're releasing a special DVD set with that and other things on it," Bob said, smiling as he watched Lucius shudder at that thought. Then his smile faded as he held up the flashdrive. "But I wish that was the only thing we had to worry about."

"Uh-oh," Lucius said. "I know that tone...that's the 'oh-shit, this-is-not-good-tone', isn't it? Please tell me that I'm not hearing that tone."

"I wish I could, Lucius," Bob said. "But this is serious."

Lucius abandoned his happy-go-lucky tone and spoke softly. "This is about that Pine kid, isn't it?"

Bob shook his head. "Not anymore, Lucius...I wish it was, but after what I've seen and learned over the last month, I'm not sure what this is all about anymore."

"Um...okay." Lucius was confused now. "Would you mind explaining this to me? Because I feel like I've just started watching a movie, but missed the first half of it, so could you please fill me in and tell me what the hell is going on?"

"Lucius, what do you know about Project Utopia and Team Tomorrow?"

"Not much...just the usual stuff they've mentioned. A UN sponsored organization that is helping to make the world a better place...if you actually buy that line."

"You don't?"

"Let me put it to you this way, Bob. Yeah, I've seen the good that this group has done in the world, but something strikes me as being a little too...if you'll excuse the term...whitewashed to me." Lucius was serious now. "It also bothers me when the bastard who originally destroyed our lives gets elected mayor and I now recently learn that he has invited Project Utopia to set up a Team Tomorrow branch in our city. It's bad enough that I keep hearing about Project Utopia trying to pressure our own government to hand over our NSA files, but now we have these bastards walking around in our own backyard." He took another sip of his coffee before continuing. "As for the Pine bastard...I'm not sure of what to make of him, but after what he's said and done, I partially blame him for bringing the Utopians down on us."

"They would have come for us, eventually," Bob said. "They already had files on my family."

"What?" Lucius couldn't believe what he was hearing. "How?"

"McKeen," Bob replied. "When she erupted and joined Utopia, they were able to fix her memories that we had altered. I don't think she had any interactions with you, but she pretty much spilled the beans on my family."

Lucius shook his head. "That bitch," he muttered. "I knew she was bad news when she went nova. Did you catch her interview a few months ago when she bashed the NSA? It's bad enough we see pictures of her and Pax every other week...at least she's been out of sight lately."

Bob smiled, failing to hide the pride in his voice. "That was Violet's doing. From what I understand, she broke McKeen's jaw."

"Good for her," Lucius chuckled. "Told you that Violet had some spunk."

"Maybe too much," Bob sighed. "She took the job with SST."

"What? Really? You okay with this this?"

"Honestly? No." Bob shoved the flashdrive across the table to Lucius. "But knowing what I know now...I'm not sure what to think."

"What's this?" Lucius asked, holding up the drive.

"I was told that it was something that would prevent me from sleeping at night," Bob said. "Unfortunately, they were telling the truth."

"They got me on here, don't they?"

Bob shook his head. "No...not you, Lucius. But they know about Damon."

Lucius' eyes widened at that revelation. "How is that possible? We kept his powers a secret."

"Utopia's been watching him since he used his powers to save some people from that refinery fire a couple years ago."

"Did they sign him on?"

"No," Bob said. "They've been keeping tabs on him, but he's not the only one. Blazestone's daughter signed on, and they're trying to recruit a couple others."

"Tanya signed on?"

"That's not all," Bob said. "Read the files...Utopia's got stuff that looks suspiciously familiar. They got Omnidroids, Lucius."

"Omnidroids?" repeated Lucius. "As in 'giant nearly indestructible metal walking death machines'...those Omnidroids?"

Bob nodded and Lucius cursed silently under his breath.

"This is big, Lucius, really big." Bob paused to take a sip of his untouched coffee, savoring the black bitter taste, hoping it would momentarily overpower the bitter taste in his mouth that was already there. "And it happened so fast, right under our noses."

"So what do we do now?" Lucius asked. "We can't just sit by and let this happen."

"At the moment, nothing," Bob replied. "Read what's on that drive...show it to other 'old timers' like us, and get a hold of me in a couple weeks."

"You do realize that there aren't many of us old timers left, right? That psychotic whackjob that used to call himself your sidekick made certain of that."

Bob looked down at the table, fighting back the wave of guilt he felt whenever Buddy Pine was brought up. He often caught himself sometimes wondering if he hadn't been full of himself back then and actually taken the enthusiastic kid under his wing...that if things might have turned out differently.

"Sorry," Lucius said. "Didn't mean to bring that up."

"Better you than someone else," Bob said.

"Yeah," Lucius chuckled. "You probably would have tossed them out into the Pacific."

Bob couldn't help laughing as well. "Yeah, well Flynn keeps thinking I'm going to throw him into the state of Utah."

"Are you?" Lucius asked.

Bob shrugged and smiled at him. "I don't know, Lucius, not yet anyway..."

As one of the agents assigned to monitoring the Parr family, William Reeser had always considered his job boring. Following around a nova's family that seemed more intent on "blending" in with regular society tended to be monotonous and, if it weren't for the healthy salary he was being paid, he would have requested a transfer. Actually, he was still considering a transfer and was going to put a request in, but killed that idea last week when some sort of disaster hit the east coast of Africa, causing Project Utopia to devote most of its resources to stabilizing the region. Though he'd only seen mostly news footage, he still couldn't believe what he saw.

A series of tsunamis...multiple giant waves played havoc in international shipping lanes, destroying several freighters and ocean liners before slamming into Somalia, wiping out several coastal villages and even going a mile or two inland before calming down. The destruction was being referred as being "of biblical proportions" by some network newscasts. People were still speculating who was behind it, and he had a feeling that, pretty soon, Utopia-friendly networks would be saying that some rogue novas, possibly the Teragen, were responsible. He was also certain that the conspiracy nuts were going to say this was some Utopia project gone wrong.

 _Not that it matters either way,_ he thought, _I'm still stuck here conducting surveillance on some has-been and his family who won't grow up and join the 21st century._

However, the conversation he recorded from his surveillance van was very interesting. Interesting enough that he immediately decided to shut the equipment down quickly and return the to the safe-house as soon as possible. He didn't want to risk sending it out from an "unshielded" source like the surveillance vehicle. He had seen the briefings on David Flynn and knew that little shit would have probably detected any transmission if they were sent out. The best bet would be to get to the safe-house and hope the shielding and firewalls were enough to keep that punk out of the system.

Unfortunately, Reeser was too lost in thought to pay attention to the intersection and failed to see the young dark haired Native-American man step in front of the vehicle until it ran into him. The next thing he remembered was being flung toward the dashboard from the collision, his seat belt preventing him from slamming his head into it, and his van suddenly going airborne, flipping over after colliding with something that did not move.

Then there was the jarring crash as the van hit the ground, rolling a couple times before miraculously resting right-side up on it's now mangled wheels and broken frame. Reeser shook his head, trying to clear his vision as he heard footsteps followed by the sound of rending metal as the door was ripped off. He felt himself being pulled out of the vehicle and then unceremoniously dropped to the ground, causing him to groan in pain as he realized that he had some broken ribs. He blinked a couple more times and his vision cleared as he saw his rescuer, the man who had stepped in front of his van.

Reesre panicked as he saw the man pull out what appeared to be some strange high-tech looking pistol and, without looking, pointed it at the remains of the van and pulled the trigger. Reese involuntarily flinched, expecting to hear a shot and some sort of explosion, but was surprised when all he saw was cackling blue sparks briefly bathe the van before dissipating. Then the stranger pointed the device at him and puled the trigger again.

Reeser flinched again and felt a mild electrical shock for a brief moment as every electronic device he had on him shorted out.

"What the hell?" he managed to say.

The young man smiled at him as he put the device back in a shoulder holster under his jacket. "David wanted me to tell you to relay this message to your masters at Utopia: The Parrs and their immediate friends and family are off limits as of now. This is our way of being nice about it." He then turned to walk away, but stopped after a few steps and looked back over his shoulder. "And if you try something like this again," he added, "we'll be targeting your safe-houses here in town."

Reeser groaned again as he watched the man walk away before disappearing around a corner.

"Shit...I really need to put in for a transfer."


	2. Nine

Disclaimer: Don't own Incredibles. Don't own Aberrant. Wish I did, but I don't. "Where Is My Mind" was written and performed by The Pixies. Jason Miller was created by me (not sure what he is yet, but he's on the Proteus Council).

Author's Notes: Yes, Fight Club was a slight influence for this piece. If you haven't seen the movie, then you probably won't get the little in-joke/reference at the end. I just felt it would be kind of cool to do something like that...and...hey, it was a cool song and I didn't think Rammstein fit the mood this time around. Anyway, for those of you who are clicking on this story for the first time and have not read the previous installments, you might be a little confused by this, but I think there's enough of this drabble to make it stand on its own.

* * *

" _The death count has officially reached half a million from the disaster and it continues to climb as more reports come from Somalia, Yemen, the UAE, even the south coasts of Pakistan and Iraq. Shipping firms and ocean liners have been advised to stay out of the region until the Project Utopia task force has concluded its investigation. Though it seems that there has been no new activity in the Indian Ocean, tensions remain high as experts from around the world try to figure out what could possibly cause what can only be described as an event of nearly biblical proportions..."_

 _-N!Channel newscast_

* * *

 _ **Addis Ababa, Project Utopia (formerly Ethiopia)**_

 _ **Proteus Council Chambers**_

Even though it was a three dimensional holo-projection on the middle of the council chamber, the image was still a horrific one. It showed the large facility known as C-12 Neptune being hit by several large waves that tore of parts of the superstructure...then the image zoomed out, showing a large whirlpool starting to form to the point of being at least seven or eight miles wide before suddenly collapsing, sending countless large waves of water crashing down on the station, ripping it apart. Then it was as if something reversed itself as a giant water spout suddenly began to form, throwing away debris sucked up from the ocean floor along with bits and pieces of the the station.

For some members of the Proteus council, the rising column of water reminded them of the old photos taken of nuclear bomb tests done in the Pacific. Slowly, after several minutes, the waterspout collapsed back into the ocean, but the satellite image still showed activity as whatever caused the disaster sent giant waves slamming into the coast of Somalia.

"Stop."

The image suddenly froze, its high-definition display frozen for all to see, only to dissolve as a woman with long platinum blond hair walked through it. The expression on her face was one of repressed rage as she spoke.

"You were all warned."

Mirage didn't bother hiding the anger (and fear) in her voice as she addressed the other members of the Proteus council. She wasn't sure which emotion had the upper-hand, but she really didn't care. Out of the entire council, she was the only person who knew what kind of hell they were toying with, but her warnings were ignored by the four members of the council who voted in favor or releasing Buddy Pine from his prison to kill David Flynn. Though two members of the council voted with her to prevent it, she was certain that even they had no clue what Buddy was capable of.

"When this proposal was brought to the council, I warned you against approving it." Her eyes narrowed to slits as she focused on the silhouette of the man sitting behind the dais marked with the number 3. "But my warning fell on deaf ears belonging to those who actually believed they could control a rabid animal with a high intelligence. And now, that animal is now loose. Congratulations, Three...you got what you wanted. Now we have to deal with it."

Three merely shook his head and laughed. "Spare me your righteous indignation, Mirage," Three snapped back at her. "You're just pissed that your ex-lover is now loose and he might come knocking on your door."

Mirage smiled coldly at the man, noting that he addressed her by name instead of by council number. "Careful, Kreese," she said. "We may both be members of the Proteus Council, but don't think for an instant that means I'll tolerate your patronizing attitude."

Three was about to respond, but was cut off by the young man at Dais 6. "She's got you there, Three. Besides, if Pine comes after her, that means he'll be coming here...which means we're all targets, but since you got at least a hundred pounds on most of us, you make the bigger target."

"Enough," snapped Two. "You're starting to sound like a bunch of undisciplined school children."

"Sorry, Daddy," chuckled Six. "I forgot, as the ruling members of Proteus, we must set an example."

"Your flippancy is neither amusing or wanted, Six."

"Tough, you're stuck with it anyway," Six said. Then his tone got more serious. "Like Mirage, I had a pretty good idea what that fucker could do."

"Language, Miller," barked Three. "This hardly the place for that."

"Fuck that," said Six/Miller as he thumbed the button that lit up his dais, revealing a young man in his late twenties with sandy-brown hair and half-smirk on his face. "My father...Gamma Jack...remember him? My father was murdered by Buddy Pine's little creation and I find it kind of odd because he was involved with the Aeon Society, just like Buddy was. And yet...for some reason, he was one of the first people Buddy targeted...kind of funny seeing as how they were both technically on the same side at the time."

"And what are you implying by that?" This time, it was Five who spoke.

Miller shook his head, giving his fellow council members another smug grin before answering. "Nothing," he finally said. "But with Pine now loose and not under our control, it's only a matter of time before he comes after us. While that does scare the shit out of me, I have this nice warm feeling inside because I know that he's also going after you assholes as well."

"Okay, Jason," said Seven. "That's enough."

Miller leaned back in his chair, thumbing the light control again, allowing him to disappear back into the shadows. "Yeah, whatever. You know what, screw this cloak and dagger bullshit. I don't know about you people, but I'm not going to sit and let myself be a target. So unless there's an important council decision to be made, I'm outta' here." His silhouette suddenly dissipated as the holo-projector above his dais deactivated, severing his link to the council.

"Arrogant little shit," grumbled Three. "Probably cares more about his playboy lifestyle than the cause."

"He may be young," Thetis said, finally joining the conversation after tiring from watching her colleagues tear into each other. "But do not underestimate young Miller." She then nodded in Mirage's direction. "Like Four and Seven, he understood the risk which we, apparently, failed to acknowledge. However, what's done is done, and now we must take care of the situation. So...any ideas?"

"Yeah," said Three. "Find Lansing and have him shot."

"Unfortunately, that may be a problem," Two said. "Lansing has gone missing."

"Missing?" Thetis couldn't believe what she was hearing. "How could Lansing suddenly disappear?"

"Well, Laragione canned his ass after the SST debacle, and he quickly disappeared after that." Two didn't bother hiding his disgust. "Apparently, he had an escape plan in place if things went south."

"So, how bad is the damage?" Thetis asked.

"Almost every coastal town in Somalia got hit, some of them were completely washed away. There was also some inland flooding for at least a couple miles." Mirage kept her voice even, despite the images that were now being displayed of the damage caused by Buddy's escape. "Yemen, the UAE, Iran, Pakistan, and India also experienced some flooding, but nothing on the scale of Somalia. In addition to that, several freighters in International shipping lanes were hit as well...we know of seven that were sunk...no survivors."

"Dear Lord, what have we done?" someone muttered. Mirage wasn't sure who it was, but it sounded like Five. "And this is just his escape attempt?"

"It gets worse," Two said. "Apparently, some of the debris has been recovered, including one of C-12's communication towers. As most of you know, we have denied having a facility out there."

"A public secret that was neither confirmed or denied," Mirage added. "Aside from the containment facility in Bahrain that Utopia continues to deny, people knew we had some sort of facility out there. Satellite photos had made their way on the net a couple years ago, and even a few conspiracy theorists hinted it was a facility meant for containing rogue novas...we even went so far as to build up that story."

"Isn't that inviting trouble?" Five asked.

Mirage raised an eyebrow in response to that question. "Would you rather have them know the true reason for C-12's existence? The fact that it was meant to only contain one of the most dangerous novas in the world."

"You exaggerate, Mirage," scoffed Three. "He's a glorified egghead with an ego problem, nothing more."

"And yet," Mirage replied, gesturing to the images of devastation still being projected behind her, "Pine was able to do this. Make no mistake, people...this council voted 4-3 in favor of letting him escape. In essence, we released a venomous serpent in an attempt to protect our Eden from an annoying pest."

"If that was a cheap shot at my beliefs, it was in very poor taste," said Five.

"No, it wasn't a cheap shot, just statement of fact." Mirage then turned and focused on Dais 1 where Director Thetis was sitting. "And believe me when I say that no amount of 'spin' or planted stories in the world media will be able to downplay this, because we're just fooling ourselves if we go that route."

"Then what do you suggest, Mirage?" Unlike most of the others in the council, Thetis' voice wasn't laden with contempt or anger. It was an actual honest question.

"First, I would suggest setting up defensive measures, recall all Team Tomorrow cells to their respective bases." Mirage waved her hand at the holo-projection behind her and the multiple images of the disaster were replaced by a world map that highlighted key Utopia installations. "The one thing I do know about Buddy Pine is that he loves killing supers." She managed to suppress the shudder as she remembered Buddy Pine watching various Omni-Droid footage and reveling in the death of each super. "Having so many novas around, especially the ones that are seen as public figures, is just asking to be hit and he would love to make a bloody and public display just to let people know he's back."

"Don't take this wrong way," said Three. "I can understand your reasoning behind this course of action, and I endorse it, but c'mon, Mirage. He's just one man, he has no resources to speak of, and I seriously doubt he can take on someone like Caestus Pax."

"Yes, one man who nearly caused a geological polar shift just to escape. You're right, he probably can't take on Caestus Pax and Pax would probably survive it, but the rest of the world would not." A cold smile formed on her lips. "Which would kill Pax in a way, since he would no longer have millions of people worshiping him, buying his action figures, or seeing him as the 'hero of the world'. But who am I to argue with your logic?" On a mental command from her, the images of the devastation of the Somali coast reappeared. "If you want to risk causing another incident, then, by all means, ignore my suggestions."

* * *

 _ **Vancouver, British Columbia**_

 _ **Canada**_

Hiro Nakishima hated coming to North America, especially the Pacific Rim. Granted, there was Seattle, Washington and his second favorite baseball team of all-time, the Mariners, but that was a three hour drive south of here...down in the US. Unfortunately, his business didn't take him there this time. Instead, he was at a port facility in Vacouver, overseeing the delivery of some goods from Japan. He wasn't exactly sure what it was about Canada that bothered him. It was a beautiful country, not polluted and nowhere near as noisy and obnoxious as the US...even the customs and law enforcement officials were polite.

Perhaps that's what scared him. Having grown up in a crime family, he had learned to have a healthy hatred for those claiming to be "upholding the law". In fact, he saw most law enforcement officers as hypocrites, they were basically hired thugs just like him, but they had a badge. Of course, then there were those members of the law enforcement community, like certain port security officers, who tended to change their morals when certain amounts of cash were flashed in front of them. To Hiro, those were the worst hypocrites of all, because they never understood the oaths of loyalty to their masters.

On the other hand...dealing with these honorless curs was the cost of doing business and, for the Nakato yakuza clan that Hiro was a part of, the profit more than made up for his having to deal with these scum. A mere fifty-thousand was enough to get port security to ignore the shipping container full of banned hardware and they even got a truck ready to take the container to the one of the warehouses the Nakato owned through a holding company based in Vancouver.

And yet, Hiro still felt uneasy as drove the transport into the warehouse. A quick glance at his palm-pilot informed him that security had not been compromised...and yet, something didn't feel right. When the warehouse doors closed and the men he had posted on security detail assured him it was safe, he ordered the others to open up the container offload their cargo.

A half hour later, several crates were on the floor and pried open, revealing various high-tech weaponry...technology that was banned or highly regulated by Utopia's hated Scientific Technology Division. On the other hand, it was a very profitable venture for both the Japanese corporations who secretly developed these technologies and for the Nakato, who were willing to smuggle these weapons to people willing to buy them...a partnership born out of necessity. Yes, there were certain people back home (notably the few politicians who did support Project Utopia) who would oppose this activity if they knew about it, but they were outnumbered by the rest of the politicians who believed that Project Utopia was preventing Japan from returning to its full glory by trying to regulate (or simply confiscating) any form of advanced technology that might have the capability of being used in a hostile manner.

 _Except any kind of new development can be used in some hostile manner_.

Hiro shook his head at that thought. As much as he hated law enforcement, he hated the Utopian hypocrites even more. He may be yakuza, but Hiro also thought of himself (as did all members of the Nakato) as a patriot wanting to see his country be great again. Project Utopia, despite their rhetoric and alleged "good intentions", were simply out for power and control...pure and simple.

"Okay, everything's here," he heard one of the others tell him as they handed him a clipboard. "Both the manifest and inventory have been physically verified."

"Good," Hiro said. "Any word on our buyers?"

"We got about two hours before the initial contact." The man frowned as he stepped forward, lowering his voice so only Hiro could hear him. "I just hope this is worth it."

"You do not approve of this transaction, Odai?" Hiro kept his expression neutral when he asked the question, though he wanted to smile at the other man's discomfort.

"I don't question my orders," Odai replied. "But I do question our potential business partners and the wisdom of doing business with them."

Normally, this kind of talk was not tolerated and Odai, like Hiro, had grown up with the Nakato being a part of his life. He knew better than to ask a question like that. However, Odai's loyalty was never in doubt, which is why Hiro kept the man around. Odai would never question anything unless he saw it as a possible threat to the Nakato. If it had been someone else, Hiro would have threatened or simply killed them for daring to question their orders. But he could find no fault with with Odai's question...because he also had a bad feeling about this.

"I understand your apprehension, my friend," Hiro said. "The Michaelites are...a bunch of psychotic fucks, but their money is as good as anyone else's."

Odai chuckled. "Very subtle." Then his smile faded. "I just hope they don't try anything, because I got a bad feeling about this."

"You and me both, Odai." Hiro patted his friend on the shoulder before walking off to talk to the others. "Okay people, we got a couple hours before contact. Keep an eye out...we don't want to risk any intrusions of the 'Utopian' kind."

"Oh, I wouldn't be too worried about that," he heard someone announce from the shadows of the warehouse. "Methinks they're a little busy with that tiny disaster that slammed into the African coast last week."

Several laser dots belonging to the weapons of yakuza members peppered the darkness in response to the voice, prompting the intruder to chuckle.

"Wow...look at all those guns!"

"Show yourself!" Hiro called out. "Or we start firing."

"Typical thugs," sighed the voice. "Always wanting to shoot something...but since you asked so nicely..."

A man stepped out of the darkness...just under six feet tall, red spiky hair, with a slight muscular build, and wearing jeans and a black t-shirt. He gave the yakuza men an awkward grin, but what threw Hiro off was the man's cybernetic right arm. He had known there were some advancements in the field of limb replacement, but nothing like the sleek silver appendage attached to the stranger.

"Now who the hell are you?" Hiro asked.

The man actually looked stunned at Hiro's question. "Excuse me?" He then looked at the ground and shook his head. "Shit...I really hope this doesn't become a habit." Then, without warning, and faster than anyone could react, his flesh and blood arm snapped up, a gun in hand. The last thing Hiro Nakisima remembered was the gunshot, something impacting him in forehead...and his world suddenly going black as the bullet ripped through his skull, trailing a mixture of blood and brain matter as it exited through the back of his head.

The other yakuza members responded by opening fire on their target and kept firing until their magazines were emptied. After about thirty seconds of continuous fire, silence filled the warehouse while some Nakato members reloaded. The others were in shock as they saw all their bullets suspended in mid-air only a few feet from the man that should have been turned into swiss-cheese from the initial attack.

A crackling blue field seemed to surround the red-haired man as he curiously studied the bullets. He then raised his cybernetic arm to show what appeared to be some sort of computerized gauntlet on his fore-arm. "Damn," he said. "Those bullets would have killed me for sure." Then he gave them a cruel smile. "Here, you can have them back." Suddenly, the bullets shot back to their points of origin at even greater velocity than what they were fired at, killing several of the yakuza gunmen and wounding others.

Odai watched as his fellow soldiers were being picked off by this laughing psycho. Out of anger (and more than a little desperation), he kicked over one of the crates and grabbed one of the weapons that spilled out. While hiding behind the fallen crate for cover, he quickly quickly thumbed the activation code on the device and prayed he had enough time to charge up. Though it took only seven seconds, it felt more like seven minutes. He saw Hiro's body lying several feet away, half obscured by the dim lighting in the warehouse, and shook his head.

 _I'm sorry I failed you, my friend. But I'll kill the fucker who did this._

With a wild yell, he jumped up and pulled the trigger, unleashing three shots of energized plasma at the target, who went flying across the warehouse and slamming into the back wall. Odai and the surviving yakuza closed in and continued to keep firing at the downed man who was trying to get back on his feet. However, that damn field that surrounded him was still blocking the bullets. Odai fired another shot from the plasma-launcher, causing the man to stumble backwards.

"Okay, that's enough," the stranger said, making a slashing motion with his cybernetic-arm. An invisible force suddenly hit Odai and the others, knocking them all off their feet. He heard one man scream followed by a sickening "splutch" sound as if he were impaled on something. He tried to get to his feet and pick up the dropped plasma-launcher, but felt the invisible force suddenly pick him up off the ground and hold him there.

The red-haired man slowly approached Odai, pausing for a moment to pick up the plasma-launcher. He inspected the weapon for a moment and shook his head. "You know, it really pisses me off when someone rips off my designs and then mass produces a much more inferior product when compared to the original."

"Who...are...you?" Odai managed to choke out as he felt the invisible force start to constrict around his throat.

"You know, your friend asked me that question, and it cost him his life," the man said. "However, it looks like you really don't know who I am." He then glanced at the other surviving yakuza members who were still pointing their weapons at him even though they must have realized their guns weren't doing any damage. "My name...is Buddy Pine."

The mention of his name didn't seem to get any reaction, so Buddy tried again. "You know...Syndrome, the guy who killed a bunch of supers about ten years ago?"

Again, no reaction...except for the inappropriate sound of a cricket starting to chirp.

"Oh, come on!" Buddy exclaimed. "I kill a bunch of supers and nobody remembers?" Upon seeing no reaction, Buddy sighed and hung his head in defeat. "I can't believe I got erased that easily...then again, guess I have to start all over." With a slight hand gesture, the zero-point field that was holding the one yakuza gunman up in the air suddenly turned the man's head sharply to one side, snapping his neck. Another zero-point field, a more concentrated wave, swept out in a sinister arc, ripping the remaining gunmen in half.

He was about to toss the one floating dead man aside, but suddenly stopped as he noted the man's height and build were similar to his own. But it was the clothing the man wore that got Buddy's attention. "Nice suit," he said to the corpse.

Ten minutes later, Buddy Pine was wearing a black Italian-made suit, and listening to an MP3 player he had taken off one of the other dead gunmen while thumbing through the little palm-pilot computer that belonged to the yakuza member he had shot in the head. He smiled as he saw the current business transaction that was supposed to take place.

 _Hmm...seems like someone is in the business to buy some hardware. I think it's time they traded up._

He walked over to another dead body and pulled a cell-phone out of the dead man's pocket.

"Can I borrow this? Thanks."

He then dialed the contact number from the file on the palm-pilot and waited until someone answered. "The deal has been been put on hold," he told them. "Unfortunately, the Nakato will no longer be able to do business with you."

"Who the hell is this?" asked the man on the other end of the line.

"Your new business partner," Buddy replied. "Don't worry, you'll be hearing from me soon."

"We had a deal!"

"And I intend to honor it," Buddy assured them. "It's just that there's going to be a change of venue and I'm going offer you a better quality product."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Believe what you want," Buddy said. "But I will contact you in one week...and make sure you bring the twenty million." Buddy then tossed the phone over his shoulder and started to walk away when something shiny caught his eye. He knelt down and picked up a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses that had belonged to one of the yakuza. He looked at them for a moment, then smiled as he put them on and studied his reflection in the mirror of the truck.

"Oh, look at you, you handsome devil you," he laughed. Then he returned his attention to the MP3 player as he walked out of the warehouse, looking for an appropriate song. He then put the earphones in his ears and pulled out a tiny black box with two buttons, one red, one green. When he was certain he was far enough away, he pushed the green button which caused the red one to start flashing. He kept walking when he pushed the red button, triggering the explosives he rigged in the warehouse.

" _Ooooooh – Stop"_

Buddy smiled as the explosions seemed to go off in tandem to the song. He knew the setting wasn't original, but he just felt it was appropriate.

" _With your feet in the air and your head on the ground_

 _Try this trick and spin it, yeah_

 _Your head will collapse_

 _But there's nothing in it_

 _And you'll ask yourself..."_

Buddy sung along as he walked away.

" _Where is my mind...where is my mind...wheeeeeerrrreee is my mind..."_


	3. Eight

**Disclaimer** : Don't own Incredibles...Pixar/Disney does. Don't own Aberrant...White Wolf does.

 **Author's notes** : This is a short a little tidbit...at least compared to the others. As usual, thanks to the usual suspects for your support. And as usual...reviews are appreciated. Oh...and there's no bodycount in this. That's right...no deaths, no killing, we have a bodycount of ZERO! Nullchronicler...don't have a heart attack. As usual, Comments and Criticisms are welcome, but personal attacks are not (yeah, Agnar, Barnett, Downery...talking about you three idiots).

* * *

" _Emergency workers continue to work around the clock in Somalia as they try to locate survivors of the disaster. Similar humanitarian efforts are taking place in Yemen, India, the UAE, and parts of Iran and Pakistan, though the primary focus is on Somalia which has been devastated by what has been described as an event of Biblical Proportions._

 _In other news today, police officers and forensic teams are still trying to determine what caused the massive explosion in the Port of Vancouver that took out several warehouses and a section about the size of a city block..."_

-CTV News

* * *

 _ **Addis Ababa, Project Utopia (formerly Ethiopia)**_

Hideo Ozaki, also known as Two in the Proteus Council of Seven, frowned as he thumbed his was way through the data-pad he was given. Aside from having various news reports from around the world regarding "unusual events", some of them were accompanied by file attachments that contained reports from various field agents. Ever since Buddy Pine's escape over a week ago, Ozaki, like the other members of the Council, was more than a little apprehensive. Then again, the last couple months had everyone on edge. If he were a superstitious man and more than a little paranoid, he would swear the fates had conspired to screw everyone over in a massive onslaught of "unfortunate" incidents.

 _Then again, we're basically playing God to the world...we were bound to face critical situations...just not so many at once._

Ozaki never believed in superstition and only considered himself "moderately" paranoid, but that was given in his line of work. Though he would never admit it to the other members of the council (except maybe Thetis), he realized that he had made a critical error by rushing to judgment on David Flynn. Yes, the young man was a problem that had to be dealt with, and while letting the boy's father take him out sounded like convenient way to kill two problems with one stone, Ozaki never realized how resourceful and imaginative Buddy Pine could be. Even as he read the regular reports being sent in by various research teams, he still couldn't believe it.

 _Using the facility's own power-generators and the station itself to create and channel EMP waves through the Earth's crust and into the molten mantle...I never would have seen that coming...I_ _ **didn't**_ _see that coming. According to our experts, if Pine cranked up just a little more juice, he would have triggered an actual geological polar shift..._

Ozaki shuddered at what that would have meant...Buddy Pine would have caused a worldwide cataclysm almost on par with the event that killed off the dinosaurs millions of years ago. Humanity, if it survived, would literally be taken back to the stone-age as floods, earthquakes, volcanoes, and several other disasters would reshape the world. However, Pine didn't go that far. Instead, he only caused freakish weather patterns and multiple tsunamis that kept the damage isolated to a relatively small area. Fatalities were minimal compared to what could have happened.

 _Minimal...I suppose that's a relative term._ Ozaki shook his head as he went over the latest figures. _When compared to the over 6 billion people on planet, a body count barely approaching one million does sound minimal._

He paused in his thoughts for a moment, wondering when he got the ability of looking at a high death count and simply regard it as a statistic. As Thetis' primary enforcer with a reputation for ruthless efficiency, Ozaki was no stranger to having people killed, especially since it was for the greater good. On the other hand, he found it disturbing that he could now simply sit by when almost a million people were killed and simply accept it as merely part of an equation.

Part of him did regret ordering Phillip Lavielle killed, but there really was no choice in the matter. Lavielle had learned things about the organization he was supposedly in charge of and was about to reveal that information to Richard Dicker of the National Superhuman Agency.

 _Dicker..._

Ozaki involuntarily clenched a fist at the thought of that old bastard who ran the American agency. Very few people could anger Ozaki in such a way. There had been times that Ozaki wished he could simply order Dicker's assassination and have Chiraben put a bullet through the old bastard's head, but logic and reason overrode that desire.

 _Killing that old fossil would attract too much attention and his replacement would do whatever it took to find whoever was responsible. His counterparts in the Directive would also get involved, and right now, they only suspect the possibility of our existence._

The Directive was another thorn in Proteus' side. An international security, police, and espionage agency founded by the United States, the UK, The Russian Confederation, and Japan, the agency set itself as a sort of counterbalance to Utopia's growing influence. Though Utopia was able to convince most of the world media to portray the Directive as an incompetent and/or dangerous agency created by powerful politicians who wanted to destroy Utopia because they saw it as a threat to their powerbase, it still enjoyed plenty of support.

 _And they aren't nearly as incompetent as we portray them._

Killing Dicker would be like leaving a trail of bread crumbs which would lead the vultures of the Directive right to Proteus' doorstep. No, better to kill Lavielle and prevent him from saying anything to Dicker. The evidence of the crime would indicate that the Teragen were behind the hit.

 _Hopefully, Lavielle's niece will get the message and try not to follow in her uncle's footsteps._

He returned his attention to the data-pad, pausing as he read a news article about an explosion at the Port of Vancouver in British Columbia. Something nibbled at the back of his brain as he remembered something. He noted a flashing tab appended to the article, indicating an agent report. He tapped the screen on the flashing tab which opened the report. His eyes widened as he read through it.

 _Of course...it makes sense._

He scrolled down through the report...the warehouse that exploded was owned by a shipping firm that served as a front company for the Nakato yakuza clan from Japan. While that was already known, the agent's report also revealed that the warehouse, before it was acquired by the Nakato, belonged to a subsidiary firm owned by Pine Industries.

 _The warehouse must have been one of Pine's "safehouses" and the Nakato snatched it up when the NSA began to seize Pine Industries assets._

He checked the other field reports that were appended to the article. One of them was from a Utopia deep cover agent in Tokyo. This report indicated that a shipment of "specialized cargo" was to be shipped to Vancouver, British Columbia, and sold to a buyer. The warehouse was meant to be the drop-off point. Another file tab flashed into existence, indicating a new report, this one from Utopia's Sci-Tech division. According to this report, a few hours after the explosion, the Nakato were scrambling to consolidate financial assets that were in in local banks because someone was starting to drain particular bank accounts.

 _Well, Pine...you certainly haven't wasted any time, have you? One week and you've managed to kill more people and get some cash._

Unfortunately, the people at Sci-Tech weren't able to track where the money went and the trail for Buddy Pine went cold.

 _Okay, Pine...we lost you, but at least we know where you're going._

Ozaki opened another file, this one playing the recent media footage of David Flynn officially opening the doors of his company to the public. It still amazed Ozaki how David Flynn resembled Buddy Pine in some ways and yet the mannerisms, the way the boy talked and moved, even the eyes were different. While Buddy Pine was a psychotic genius who suffered from a bad case of narcissism, David Flynn was more calm, cool, and collected. It saddened Ozaki that killing Flynn, like disposing of Lavielle, was a necessity, not an option. The boy would have made an excellent addition to Utopia and Proteus.

 _Unfortunately, he knows too much about us and disagrees with what needs to be done. I just wish we hadn't decided to use his father. That man is a psychopath and he won't stop with Flynn._

He picked up the phone and dialed a number, tapping away on the data-pad and sending the files on Pine and Flynn to someone else.

The phone only rang once on the other end before someone picked it up. "Talk to me!" announced the voice, sounding entirely too cheerful. In the background, Ozaki could hear what sounded like mariachi music.

"Chiraben, I'm sending you files as we speak. I want you study them and start doing prep."

"Hold on." Ozaki heard some tapping of keys in the background and then flinched as the voice almost yelled into his ear. "AWESOME! A 'Two-fer'!"

"Can you do the job, Chiraben?" Ozaki asked.

"Sorry for sounding a little over-enthusiastic, boss. It's not everyday someone sanctions me to kill a psychotic mastermind and his bastard son. But yeah, I can do the job."

"Then get going," Ozaki ordered. "I want you in Metroville, California for initial recon in the next twenty four hours. While Pine is targeting the boy, you are not...I repeat...you are not to interfere. Let Pine kill the boy, then kill Pine...is that understood?'

"Yeah," Chiraben replied, sounding uncharacteristically professional for a moment. Then the moment disappeared as he chuckled wickedly. "So how messy do you want it?"

 _ **Seattle, Washington**_

 _ **Pacific Arms Hotel**_

" _Though it seems that there has been no new activity in the Indian Ocean, tensions remain high as experts from around the world try to figure out what could possibly cause what can only be described as an event of nearly biblical proportions..."_

"BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS!" Buddy shouted out. "Boo-yah!"

He poured himself a glass of champagne and sipped it as he flipped through the various channels. Even though it had been over a week since he escaped, the media was still covering the "catastrophe of biblical proportions", and he loved every minute of it. He was a little disappointed that his rampage in Vancouver a couple days ago was barely covered in the news, he didn't mind too much. As far as the media was concerned, a turf-war between the Nakato and some unknown group was nothing compared to the "wrath of God" (as an MSNBC reporter put it) unleashed in the Indian Ocean.

Buddy turned to face his reflection in the mirror next to the small mini-bar of his hotel room and raised his glass. "To Buddy Pine, a man who fell from the height of greatness, only to tear his way back to the top with the biggest comeback event of all time."

He finished off his glass and then set it aside as he turned his attention to a laptop on the coffee table. "Well...celebration over, time to get back to work." He tapped in a couple commands and he pulled up the files he had uploaded from the palm-pilot computer he had taken from the Nakato. He shook his head and clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Aw, man...I can't believe it. Not only do they rip off some of my assets, but they downgraded my design. Talk about cutting corners."

Using the Nakato information, he was able to transfer almost most of the money from their Canadian bank accounts to a "ghost" account he created. Then he simply withdrew the money and made some arrangements. Slipping into the states was relatively easy. Two days later, he was in a four star hotel where he enjoyed a real hot shower, ordered real food, and bought a cheap laptop from Best Buy which he quickly modified to serve as a portable mainframe. Of course, the lap-top was only a temporary measure. Eventually, once he got a new base of operations established, he would upgrade, but...for the time being, it would do. After all, he was on the run and it was best to stay mobile.

At the moment, he was looking at the weapon designs the Nakato were planning to sell and he was pissed. Oddly enough, he was not upset that Shimata industries ripped off his design, but angry at the sub-standard materials used for the plasma launcher. He could understand that it was for cutting production cost, but it yielded a slower discharge rate and broke down too easily. He scrolled through the other designs and saw pretty much the same thing.

"No," he said, shaking his head again. "This just isn't working."

He brought up a drafting program began to re-do the designs, using his original blueprints. An hour and a half later, he had re-done all five designs, then smiled as he looked that the three-dimensionally rendered models.

"Oh yeah...made in America. I think it's time we made that mean something again." He picked up a cell-phone and dialed a certain number again.

"Yes," rasped the voice.

"Well, I know I said I would contact you with in a week, but I lied."

"You again!" the voice snarled.

"Yes," Buddy chuckled. "Me...again. Look, you Michaelites really need to get rid of that 'grrrr...arrrrgh' thing you got going. It's not good for business...not to mention your personal health."

"Nor is interfering in a business deal," the other man replied.

"Agreed, but I'll let your implied threat slide. I mean, after killing off a bunch of ruthless Nakato, do you really think I'm afraid of a bunch of religious fanatics?"

"You...you killed them?" It wasn't fear in the other man's voice, but something else...curiosity perhaps. It didn't matter to Buddy, because the man's demeanor almost immediately changed from hostility to businesslike. "Well then...perhaps we can talk business. Unfortunately, you did destroy a vital shipment we needed for our operations, my colleagues are not happy about that."

"Your colleagues should be thanking me, because I kept them from buying an inferior product. Look, I told you the other day that I would be contacting you in a week. Today, I'm contacting you to tell you to keep your eye on the daily news. In five days, something's going to happen...consider it...an audition."

"An audition?"

"A chance to establish my credibility. I notice your group is stepping up activity in California, particularly near and around Metroville. I plan on moving my base of operations down to that area."

"I must confess," the man said, "I am suspicious. You destroy a business arrangement that took us a month to put together, and now you're coming out of nowhere willing to continue the deal? We don't even know who you are."

"Yeah, I know it's kind of suspicious," Buddy replied. "Which is why I think you'll be willing to deal with me after I leave you a calling card."

"What kind of calling card?"

Even though the other man couldn't see him, Buddy grinned. "The kind that will have you and your colleagues scrambling to do business with me. Just keep your eyes on the local news...it's going to get get a little bloody."

He terminated the connection, then called up a search engine on his laptop. "Now, let's see," he said as he tapped away on the keyboard. "How many novas are active on the west-coast?"

His eyes widened as he saw several teams pop up. "Damn," he muttered. "So many teams...so many targets." He noted a couple of the teams were tagged with a Project Utopia logo, indicating that they were directly sponsored by the organization. "Ooooh, really juicy targets."

He clicked on one of the Utopia sponsored teams and read through the roster. Unfortunately, spirits started to sink when he saw that these were mostly "low-level" novas. It wasn't until he came across a team in San Francisco that something caught his eye. They were a group called "The Protectors"...a rather dull name, but the powers this group possessed impressed him.

But what really got his attention was the hone-blond haired woman with a fireball in one hand and leaning against the wall. She looked familiar and he couldn't figure out why...until he saw the name of the heroine...Tanya Mitchell...Blazestone.

 _Oh my...little Tanya Mitchell...all grown up now. Damn, she filled out nicely...too bad she decided to follow in Mommy's footsteps._

Then Buddy chuckled wickedly, his laughter echoing slightly through the room. "But who am I to stand in the way of tradition?"


	4. Seven

**Disclaimer:** As usual, don't own Incredibles...Pixar/Disney/Brad Bird does. Don't own Aberrant, White Wolf still does (and seems content to hold on to the rights and let the franchise die).

 **Author's Notes:** For those of you who are wondering who Bomber is, he's a character I created for my first story "Interesting Times" and he is meant to be the likeable/comedy relief villain I like to beat up on. He's the son of "Bomb Voyage", and something of a slacker who is only following in his father's footsteps to pay for his endless "extreme sports tours". He was meant to be a throwaway villain, but something made me bring him back and flesh out the character more.

* * *

 _"Though no one has claimed responsibility for the attack on Pier 39, there has been speculation that the Teragen might have been involved. Details are sketchy at best, but according to eyewitnesses, an armored figure appeared and randomly started destroying store-fronts and killing any law enforcement officials who arrived on scene. When the Protectors, San Francisco's own Utopia sponsored nova team, arrived, they were systematically slaughtered in less than ten minutes. Only one member of the team survived and it is reported that they are in critical condition..."_

 _-N!Channel News_

* * *

 _ **San Francisco, California**_

 _ **Golden Gate Bridge**_

Jean Paul Renard, also known as the nova mercenary/supervillain/slacker/pain-in-the-neck/but-still-an-all-around-cool-guy called Bomber, paused for a moment to take in the panoramic view of the San Francisco bay. He had to admit, despite the heavy shit-filled aroma of political correctness in the air, it was beautiful view. Then again, he was standing on top of a section of the Golden Gate Bridge, one hell of a vantage point...and also illegal...even for a nova. Already, traffic was slowing down below as drivers and pedestrians were looking up, probably wondering how a mad man got up there. He looked out at the water, then checked his palm-pilot computer which indicated that the camera he had placed on various parts of the bridge were working.

"Oh yeah," he smirked. "This is gonna' be so cool."

He tugged at the harness and straps to the pack he was wearing, making sure the pack was secure. Confident that everything was working, he picked up a digital camera and pointed it at himself as he turned it on.

"Jean-Paul here with another edition of 'Bomber's Bay'! Today, we're here in the beeeeeeaaaaaaautiful city of San Francisco, where political correctness is king...or queen...or both...really not sure, but that's not the point." He smiled knowing his comments would probably piss off some bloggers, but he didn't care. His site always got a lot of hits and controversy made him a star. "Anyway, as some of you know, I mentioned awhile back that I was designing a glider-pack. Well...here it is."

He posed in front of the camera.

"What we have here is a light-weight collapsible eufibreglass frame with eufibre fabric which makes the thing fairly durable." He then paused dramatically and lowered his voice as he brought the camera a little closer. "Don't ask where I got the materials...you really don't want to know."

He picked up a helmet and put it on. "As you can see, I've also got a small mini-cam mounted on the helmet which we're going to switch to when I dive off the bridge." Sirens and flashing lights caught his attention and he smiled again as he saw several emergency response vehicles make their way along the bridge. "Well, it looks like the emergency crews arrived to prevent me from doing this...so...I guess it's time to do this. If this works, we'll be taking a nice flight across the bay. If it doesn't...well...I'll end up in the bay and you might get a look at the local marine life."

He turned off the camera and placed it in a pocket, then he reached up and activated the helmet cam. "Okay...here we go!" He gave laughed as a local news helicopter flew overhead and gave them a thumbs up before taking a running leap off the bridge.

"Baaaaaaaaaaaaaanzzzzaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiii!"

For a moment, time seemed to freeze for Jean. It was the kind of moment, that if it were anyone else, they would probably see their own life flash before their eyes as they fell to their death. The adrenaline would rush through the body, the heart would pound, and everything would seem to be going in slow motion as their mind would try to come to grips with the fact that their life would end right after that moment. For most people, it would be one last moment of terror. However, Jean loved those moments, he wished he could make them stretch out forever. Of course, being a nova with the ability of massive regeneration did kill the fear factor of possibly dying, but it didn't kill the adrenaline rush.

Of course, there was the possibility of the glider-pack failing, which meant he would probably break some bones as he slammed into the bay. And then he would have to endure that excruciating pain as the bones regenerated, but at least it was quick. His only real concern was hoping there weren't any sharks in the area...growing limbs back took longer and it was very painful.

But none of that mattered at this moment...nothing did, except for that moment of freedom he felt...that almost peaceful bliss, which was shattered by one single thought.

 _Hmmm...I wonder how many hits my site is going to get from this...DAMMIT!_

Reality suddenly re-asserted itself back into real-time, ending Jean's "perfect moment", as the pack suddenly exploded to deploy a pair of stabilized wings. He quickly pulled both cords on the harness and his fall became a controlled dive which he pulled out of with only a couple feet between him and the water.

"YES!" he screamed. "It works!" He was still laughing as a wind current carried him back up in the air. Using the cords on the harness, he had the glider take him further out from the bridge and back towards the mainland. He passed over a boatload of tourists and nodded at them as they took pictures.

He had the glider continue to climb before leveling out at a decent altitude. "As you can see," he said, talking louder so the camera's mic could pick up his voice over the background noise from the wind, "I'm out here over the bay...and I got one hell of a view. As you can see, Ghirardelli Square is over there, Pier 39 is over there, Alcatraz Island is off over here and-"

An explosion cut him off as part of Pier 39 erupted in flames, flinging debris into bay and up in the air.

"What the hell!?"

* * *

 ** _Pier 39_**

Tanya Mitchell, also known as the heroine Blazestone, watched helplessly as her teammate, a super-strong nova called Rhino, was slammed repeatedly into the ground by the blue energy field that bathed him like a cocoon. The blue field was being projected by one of two matching gauntlets their unknown enemy wore on each arm of some sort of light powered armor. There was a sickening crunch when Rhino was impaled on a piece of exposed I-beam from one the damaged buildings.

"Bobby!" she screamed as she watched her friend and teammate convulse one last time before going completely limp. She blasted away the rest of the rubble she was half-buried under and then sent a stream of molten lava jetting towards her target. She never let loose like this before, not in a public area like this, preferring to use fireballs because they tended to do less damage, but this was an act of desperation.

Ten minutes ago, things were different. She, Rhino, Whirlwind, Rave, and Stormer had responded to calls that a madman was threatening to blow up Pier 39 if the Protectors didn't show. This point was emphasized when the armored mad-man used some sort of advanced technology to destroy the SWAT team and massacre most of the police officers who were trying to contain the situation. It was obvious the man was using banned technology that had been weaponized, and the Protectors, being a Utopia sponsored team, were authorized to use whatever force necessary to bring the unknown down.

Ten minutes ago, Tanya's friends were alive and well...and now, she was the only one left. Whirlwind was the first to fall, ripped in half by that weird glowing blue energy field the armored man was wielding. Rave and Stormer were shocked by what they saw, they stood there and were mowed down by a hail of metal from the rail-weapon the man carried with him. Rave had become a bloody smear, while Stormer's legs were ripped out from under her as she moved too late to take cover.

Tanya managed to knock the rail-gun out of the man's hands with hail of fireballs, but he fired a burst of that funky blue energy at her at blew out a portion of a building and buried her in the debris. Rhino managed to get a few shots on the man, who staggered from the blows delivered by the human behemoth, but it was apparent there was some sort of force-field that protected him from being pounded into a paste by the angry nova. Rhino continued to pound away on the other man, and it looked like he had the upper hand when he forced the other to drop to one knee.

Then the bastard lashed out with that energy field again and tossed the larger nova around like a rag-doll, laughing like a maniac before impaling him on that I-Beam while Tanya tried to dig herself out of the debris.

The armored man deflected the blast of magma, causing it to splatter everywhere, setting more fires wherever the lava landed. "Damn," he laughed at her. "Your mother was never that reckless."

Her fear and despair vanished as a wave of anger washed over her when the man talked about her dead mother. She unleashed another wave of magma at him, but he went air-borne, dodging the magma. She tried to track his movement, but felt something grab her and yank her up in the air. That was when she realized in horror that she was now bathed in that same blue energy. Then she screamed as she felt something burn throughout her body...as if she were being electrocuted.

"Well, well, well," the stranger said as he tapped a button on one of his gauntlets. The pain immediately stopped, but Tanya's body was so numb she couldn't move. "What's the matter, honey, nervous system not working right? Don't worry, it's only temporary...not that it matters, you'll be dead soon enough."

With a gesture from his right arm, Tanya was thrown across a walkway and into another storefront. She managed to roll with the impact, but she heard a snap and felt a sharp pain in her left arm. When she tried to push herself up, she felt more pain...confirming that it was broken.

The armored man landed in front of the building, shaking his head as he stooped to pick up the rail-gun he had dropped earlier, the mid-afternoon sun giving his visored helmet a malicious gleam. "You know, I killed the first Blazestone," he said as he stepped through the remains of the storefront. "And I prefer supers to stay dead after I kill them...but hey...if you want to follow in Mommy's footsteps...I'm more than willing to oblige you."

"Who-who are you?" Tanya managed to gasp.

The man suddenly stopped. "What?" He actually sounded upset by the question. "You don't know who I am? I killed your mother."

Tanya's eyes widened when she realized what he was saying. "No," she said, shaking her head. "You're dead." Then rage and grief surged through her again. "You can't be alive, you're dead!" she screamed as she lashed out with her good arm and sent a wave of lava that slammed into the armored man and knocked him through a building and into the bay.

She laid there on the ground for a couple minutes, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Helllloooooo," she heard someone call out. "Anybody there?" She heard someone making their way through the rubble toward her. The first thing she saw was a black helmet and she freaked out.

"Stay Away!" she screamed as she shot several fireballs at the newcomer who immediately dodged.

"Whoa!" The newcomer screamed as he dove for cover. "Ceasefire!"

Before Tanya could react, he was already next to her. She could see that he was wearing street-clothes, what looked like some sort of climbing harness, and a motorcycle helmet with a small camera on the side. It wasn't the armored man her team was fighting.

"No," she whimpered as he knelt down next to her. "Stay away."

"Like hell, lady!" The man quickly looked her over and gently touched her injured arm, causing her to cry out. "Oh fuck, definitely broken in two places...feels like you got a couple broken ribs."

"Who are you?" she asked as the man pulled off his helmet, revealing a young man with brown hair in his mid-twenties. She would have thought of him as hot if she swung that way.

"My name's Jean-Paul...but just call me Jean." He smiled at her. "But you can call me when you get out of the hospital okay."

"Sorry," she half-choked out. "You don't have the right plumbing."

Jean frowned at her. "Dammit, why is it that the really hot ones are lesbians? Then again, this IS San Francisco." He shook his head. "Fine, just let me take you out for a cup of coffee when this is over." He paused for a moment as he considered his options. "Look, if this were a normal situation, I'd just call 911 and not move you, but that's not an option. I'm going to have to carry you out, okay?"

She nodded her consent. "Have...to...get...out of here," she gasped.

"Yeah, yeah," Jean said as he started to pick her up. "No pressure here. By the way, who did thi"

Several metallic needles slammed into Jean's shoulder, knocking him several feet away even as the projectiles shredded his shoulder.

Buddy Pine watched as Blazestone's would-be savior landed in a heap twenty feet away. The HUD in his helmet was still flickering from the damage he took from the magma blast that knocked him into the bay, but his ZP field had shielded him from most of the damage. His body-armor was scorched in some places, but still intact. Unfortunately, his ZP field was still recharging. Thankfully, his rail gun was still working.

"That would be me," he said to the corpse of the stranger who was stupid enough to try and play hero. He then turned his attention back to Blazestone. "Now, where were we? Oh yeah...we were talking about tradition. Your mommy was a super, I killed her, you follow in her footsteps, I kill you...fairly simple logic." He laughed as Blazestone tried to conjure up another attack, but was only able to generate a tiny ball of flame. "Well...it was a short run...and you're a sad disappointment to your mother's memory."

He raised the rail-gun. "If it makes you feel better, you and your team will make an excellent sales gimmick during my presentations." He was about to pull the trigger when a gleaming silver ball suddenly hit his rail-gun and attached itself to the weapon. "Huh? What the hell..." was all he got out before the small ball exploded, destroying his weapon and knocking him to the ground.

He struggled to his feet and was rewarded with a piece of rubble slamming into the visor of his helmet, shattering the HUD display inside and momentarily blinding him.

"Okay, asshole," he heard someone say before a solid kick hit him in the mid-section. "That fucking hurt!"

The blow didn't do any damage, but there was enough strength behind it to send Buddy staggering back. He ripped off his helmet so he could see who he was fighting, then stopped cold as he recognized the guy he had shot with the rail-gun only a minute ago. "Whoa...hold on...I cored your ass, you should be dead."

The other man twirled a pipe in his hand and shrugged. "Yeah, you did. I got better, now I'm pissed." He charged forward, landing a solid blow to Buddy's gut and then following it up with a shot to the face that would have connected had the Zero-Point field not kicked back on. Instead, the pipe stopped just millimeters from Buddy's jaw. To Buddy's surprise, the man just shook his head. "Aw man...now that's kind of cool...not fair, but still cool."

Buddy smiled at him. "Glad you like it," he sneered as he had the field grab the other man and start slamming him through walls, against the ceiling, and finally into the floor, leaving the man in a crumpled heap. "Ouch," he said. "Looks like you broke a bunch of bones...lets see you get up from-"

A beeping sound at his feet interrupted him and made him look down. His eyes widened as he saw two more tiny silver balls sitting there. "Son of a bitch!" he screamed before the explosion knocked him off his feet and sent him flying back into the bay again. Luckily, his boot-jets were still operational and kicked into full power as he burst out of the water.

"Okay, you little shit!" he snarled at the man who, much to Buddy's surprise, was already back on his feet. "So you can heal really fast, let's see if you can regrow organs that are ripped out of you." He pointed pointed both gauntlets at the man and fired, alternating the frequency of the waves so they would rip the man into multiple pieces. Instead, both gauntlets sparked and one of them went completely dead.

"Dammit!" he whined. "Not now." Then the gauntlet flared to life and fired a large blue burst of zero point energy that hit the building, bringing it down on top of the man and the injured Blazestone, burying them alive. He took a moment to survey the damage and shrugged. "Well...not exactly what I wanted, but I guess that will do for now."

He was tempted to finish the job, but the approaching sirens and helicopters made him decide it was probably time to go before people got a good look at him. He checked the power-levels on his one functioning gauntlet which read only thirty-five percent power. He sighed, then punched in a command which had the zero-point field bend the light around him, making him invisible, and took off. While he wasn't too happy with the results, he was confident the fact he had destroyed an entire team of novas would establish his reputation with his prospective clients.

On the other hand, he was certain that Blazestone couldn't survive that. As for the other nova who showed...well...if the bastard survived that, he'd just need a bigger gun next time.

* * *

As a paramedic, Alicia Carter had seen a lot of things in the last two years while working around the Bay Area. She had treated gunshot wounds, stabbings, burns, and other injuries. She had been in all sorts of emergency situations, but nothing like this.

Pier 39, one of San Francisco's more popular tourist attractions, had been turned into a war zone. All around her, people were injured and dying as she and several other emergency workers tried to treat the injured. She had never seen so many ambulances and firetrucks all at once. Two minutes after she and her partner, Lyle Morris, arrived on-scene, they were both wearing dust-masks and helping others dig through the rubble.

As she made her way through the area, she saw what appeared to be some sort of hang-glider lying on the ground, fabric shredded, but frame still intact.

 _Now that's odd...what kind of store sells a hang-glider at Pier 39? Must have been part of a display._

"Hey, we got something," Lyle called out.

Alicia ran over to where Lyle was digging through a pile of debris and started to go through the pile of bricks, pipe, and mortar. Several other workers joined them and, a few minutes later, they found a man's body, his neck bent sharply at a severe angle and his limbs broken...another casualty. A few seconds after that, they realized he was covering the body of a young woman...and she was alive!

"Holy shit," she heard one of the workers mutter. "That's Blazestone...one of the Protectors."

"Then who's this guy?" asked one of the others as they gently lifted the dead man's body and set it aside.

"I dunno', just some nobody."

Alicia wanted to smack that worker. It was obvious to her that the dead man had shielded Blazestone's body with his own. "Have some respect," she snapped. "He probably saved her life."

"Whatever," the worker said with a shrug. "We better get her to a hospital. We'll deal with the dead guy later."

Suddenly, the "dead guy" in question twitched violently on the ground and sickening crunches could be heard as his neck and broken limbs snapped back into position. Then he suddenly sat up and screamed.

"THAT REALLY FUCKING HURT!"

To everyone's amazement, the corpse then stumbled back to his feet, then staggered a few more steps. He tilted his neck sharply to the right until another audible crack was hear. "Ow," he muttered. Then he stretched his arms out and back until more sickening cracks were heard. "Ow...again."

Alicia and the others stood there, dumbfounded, as the dead guy...no longer dead...opened and closed his hands. After taking a few seconds, Alicia was able to find her voice. "Sir, are all right?"

"No," the man snapped, "I'm not all right. Some fucker dropped a building on me, I hate when that happens!" He then turned to the one worker who had simply dismissed him as a corpse and raised a finger at him. "As for you," he said as he took a couple of steps forward. "You have got to be the worst emergency worker...ever! As soon as I'm fully back together, I'm going to beat the shit out of you." Then he stumbled a few steps and dropped to his knees. "I'm going to beat the shit out of you...as soon as the world stops spinning."

He collapsed to the ground, unconscious, oblivious to the speechless emergency workers who stood there for several seconds, still in shock at seeing a "dead man" wake up in front of them.

"Well," Alicia finally said. "Now there's something you don't see every day."


	5. Six

**Disclaimer:** As usual, don't own Incredibles (Pixar and Brad Bird do). Don't own Aberrant (though if I win the Lotto, I might try buying the rights from White Wolf since they've abandoned the line).

 **Author's Notes:** Sorry, no Buddy Pine in this chapter, but he will return in the other ones.

Oh...and if there are any Dash fans reading this...I just want to say "Sorry" in advance and I will suggest you might want to skip this. He's something of a...well...bully in my twisted little take on this 'verse. Some would say it's accurate, others would disagree and, as far as I'm concerned, everyone's entitled to their opinion. On the other hand, I just wanted to post up the warning.

So here it is: **WARNING TO FANS OF DASH PARR: HE IS PORTRAYED AS AN ARROGANT JERK WITH A CHIP ON HIS SHOULDER!**

Okay...I think I've covered myself in that department. Now...on with the show. Oh, and as usual, reviews, comments, and even the occasional threat is welcomed.

* * *

 _Everyone has secrets, some more damning than others. Most people try to suppress their secrets, bury them deep and try to forget about them and live a lie so convincing to themselves, that they do truly forget about the proverbial skeleton in the closet. Unfortunately, in most of those cases, the skeleton is discovered or a situation arises when it must be dealt with. And when that happens, it truly changes everything...sometimes for the good, sometimes for the worst. Once the skeleton has been brought out, secrets revealed, the past dug up from the depths it had been all these years, nothing will be the same. Perceptions of reality and of those close to us change._

 _For some, this can be a good thing, giving them a true glance at the real world around them. But for others, it could shatter the little world they have created for themselves and destroy what they believed in...and they don't ever recover from that._

From the personal journal of Pedro Santiago, The Mathematician.

* * *

Helen Parr, semi-retired super-heroine, occasional substitute teacher/school counselor, loving wife, and mother of three beautiful children, had been through a lot in her lifetime. As a child, she grew up poor in a single parent home, but she and her mother managed to make it. In fact, she prided herself on being a lot like her mother, strong and independent. As a young adult, that strength carried her through college and helped her recover from the accident that triggered her powers. That strength also carried her through her career as the heroine known as Elastigirl, and it was that strength that kept her going in the twenty three years she had been married to Bob.

But now, she felt weak. For the first time in her life, that strength wasn't enough. It failed her because it didn't shield her from the brutal truth she and the few remaining 'original' supers (she still refused to refer to herself as a 'nova') chose to ignore. Of course, that truth was nothing compared to the secret she kept hidden from Bob...a secret that she assumed would stay buried.

She had only met her biological father three times...the first time was at her mother's funeral. She had just graduated college...a moment in her life that should have been a joyous occasion...and would have been if her mother hadn't been dying of cancer. Helen wanted to drop out and take care of her mother, but Nancy Taggerty would have none of that.

"My little girl is going to make it," her mother said. "And I have no intention of checking out until you do. So you better not screw up your life on my account or I will kick your sorry butt all over that campus until you graduate."

Helen smiled at that memory. Oh yes, the Taggerty women were strong alright. And true to her word, Nancy Taggerty held on long enough to see her girl make it, before quietly passing away a couple months later. It was bittersweet moment in Helen's life, but she felt the best way to be true to her mother's memory was to be strong.

The first test of that strength came when a tall and handsome looking gentleman in his 30s showed up at the tail end of the funeral. No one knew who he was, but he respectfully kept his distance and, when most of the others had left, placed a single red rose on her mother's tombstone. She confronted him there and that's when he dropped his little bombshell...he was actually her father. At first she didn't believe him...then he hit her with the second bombshell.

"Do you really think your powers came about by accident?" he asked her.

Needless to say that argument didn't go well. It was mostly her screaming at him, telling him that he was never a part of her life and she had no desire to change that now. He tried to tell her that he didn't know she existed until only a couple years earlier, but she didn't believe him.

It wasn't until she was going through some of her mother's things that she found one of her mother's journals. In that journal, she read about her mother's affair with a young and dashing stranger whose description eerily matched the man she had met at the funeral. Then there was the entry that shook her...

 _The strange men showed up again...they actually tried to take me! They showed up outside where I worked and grabbed me. They kept saying that I was 'important to Aeon'...that the baby was important. They knew I was pregnant! I hadn't even told Michael yet._

 _They shot me up with something that made me weak so I'd stop fighting them. I remember losing consciousness, but being suddenly woken up by the sound of rending metal and gunfire. That's when I looked up and saw Michael...he was floating in the air...and he had just ripped the top of the car off. It was surreal...almost as if I were watching one of those stupid Superman shows...but it was real. My captors fired guns at him and the bullets...it was like they melted to nothing just before they hit Michael._

The rest of the entry detailed the bloodbath that followed as _Michael_ proceeded to kill the men who had kidnapped her mother and then killed the others who arrived to assist there was the next entry after that.

 _Michael is leaving, he said it would be best for both of us and that it was the only way to keep me safe. He left me with fifty-thousand and told me to leave as well. He suggested I should relocate to the other side of the country. I still haven't told him about the baby, and I don't think I should...not with those Aeon people running around._

Those entries rocked Helen to her core and she started to wonder that maybe her powers weren't an accident, but something she inherited. She tried to find 'Michael', but couldn't track him down. Instead, he found her a few weeks later after she, as Elastigirl, foiled a bank robbery. This time, they had a more civil conversation, but it was agreed that it would be best for all involved if he stayed away.

That was the last she saw of him...until a year ago when a nova calling himself Divis Mal emerged and issued his televised "Null Manifesto" urging novas to rebel against Project Utopia's "exploitation of the new race". She wanted to say something then, but decided not to. Her family, though they were supers operating in the open, still had the safety of a secret identity. Utopia hadn't come after them, thanks to the NSA, but Helen knew it was only a matter of time.

Her strength took another hit only a few months ago when David Flynn, a young man claiming to be Syndrome's son (with striking similarities to that mad man to back his story) showed up on her doorstep...right out in the open. Over the last several weeks her world, everything she believed in, was shaken to its core. Violet taking the job at David Flynn's company over her parents' objections, the assault on SST by a Utopia team with Violet and Jack stuck in the middle of it...it was too much. She was half expecting Bob to head over to Syndrome Software and Technologies and put David Flynn in traction...hell...SHE wanted to do that.

However, Bob didn't toss David Flynn into the next state. Instead, he returned with a grim face and a tiny flash-drive which they both looked at together. What she saw on that drive frightened her, especially when she found out that Utopia did know about her family. It got worse when they called up Dicker and he confirmed everything David Flynn had presented to them.

But the most recent blow to her strength was a little over a week ago when her father showed up on her doorstep.

" _I thought we agreed...you stay away, my family and I live our lives."_

" _It's not that simple anymore, Helen...something's happening."_

" _If it involves you and your little band of psychopaths, that's all on you."_

" _They're hardly 'psychopaths', Helen...at least no better or worse than the fools who run Utopia."_

" _Again, it's none of my concern, and my family and I are none of yours."_

" _And if I could, Helen, I would be more than willing to let you live your life, but I'm afraid that's impossible. They now know about Jack."_

" _You stay away from him!"_

" _I have no intention of taking him from you, I'm only here to warn you. There are people out there who know about him and your other children. David Flynn's protection can only go so far...but I'm willing to help you if he fails."_

" _Wait, what do you mean by 'Flynn's protection'?"_

" _You don't know? He's had one of his people keep tabs on you since the battle at his company."_

" _Well, that's going to change...I don't want that little monster in our lives anymore than he already is."_

" _Believe me, David Flynn is no monster."_

" _Oh...and I'm sure you're a fair judge in that category..."_

Like her past previous "conversations" with her father ("confrontations" being a more appropriate description), this ended with her telling her father to get lost and him quietly leaving.

That was over a week ago, and now, after a week of fighting her own internal demons, she made a decision. Tonight, she was going to tell her family the truth. Her father was right about one thing...the truth had to be told sooner or later. So Helen Parr decided to call a "family" discussion under the guise of inviting Violet to dinner with the family. In addition, she promised Violet that she would not talk about her taking the job with David Flynn's company (though that didn't stop her from saying that she didn't like it).

The dinner (pot roast, veggies, garlic roasted mash potatoes, and homemade rolls) got a lot of curious looks from her family members. A concerned look from Bob told her that he knew what she was doing, but he didn't say anything, probably thinking that he would find out after dinner. Violet also cast a couple suspicious looks in her direction, but didn't say anything either.

Dash didn't seem to care, or just didn't sense anything was wrong. He just tore into his dinner and talked about how things were going at school, especially with all the rumors flying around about Zoe Kilmarten and her leaving the school after being outed as a nova.

Jack seemed bored...or annoyed, quietly eating his dinner, speaking up only to complain about how EA Games was going to push back the release of some of their sports games for the PS3.

After dinner was over with and the table was cleared, Helen finally got the courage to talk about why they were all there.

"I just want you to know," she began, "that no matter what I say tonight, I love you all."

"Okay, this sounds ominous," Violet said. Then her eyes widened in alarm. "Mom...you're not dying, are you?"

"What?" Helen blinked a couple times, she wasn't expecting that question. "No...no...not that," she said.

Her comments got a collective sigh of relief from her family.

"I'm not dying," she said. "It's just that..."

"Oh god...you had an affair!"

"No Dash, I didn't have an affair!"

"I'm relieved to hear that," Bob chuckled, though his laughter did sound a little forced.

"Guys, I'm trying to be serious here!" Helen exclaimed. "I just...don't know how to say it."

"Honey, it's okay," Bob told her. "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad. You're not dying, you're not having an affair, we're not getting divorced." He suddenly paused for a moment. "You're not filing for divorce, are you?" he asked.

"No!"

"Whoa, Mom...take it easy," Violet said. "If you have a skeleton in the closet, and it's none of the previous mentioned items, it can't be that bad." Then her eyes narrowed. "Wait...you're not pregnant, are you?"

"No, I'm not pregnant!"

Jack let out a sigh of a relief. "That's good to know," he said. "Because I'm really not ready give up my 'baby' status, just yet. I mean...then I have to devote my time to throwing the occasional tantrum, acting out...I'm really not sure I can fit that in my schedule. Though I could give up hockey practice for it..."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll do just fine," Dash snorted.

"Nah," Jack fired back at him. "You're the master at tantrums and acting out, I could never match you."

"That's right." Dash smiled triumphantly, then suddenly realized what his brother had said. "Wait, that was an insult, wasn't it?"

"For a speeder, awfully slow on the uptake, bro."

"I'll show you slow," Dash said as he started to get up from the table.

"Dash," Helen said, the warning very clear in her voice. "Sit. Down. Now."

By now, she had everyone's attention. Whenever she used THAT tone, it made her children almost immediately quiet down (though she was certain the effect would wear off as they got older).

Bob leaned back in his chair. "Okay, you got our attention," he said. "So what is it?"

"Honey," Helen began. She almost lost her nerve and was tempted to make up some lie, but she managed to keep her resolve. "I know we made a promise...no more secrets. It's just...I've had this secret long before I met you. I thought it was just part of my past I wanted to bury."

"Oh, you mean about why you and your former sidekick are not exactly on the best of terms?" Dash asked. "We already know why you and Aunt Penny don't get along."

"Hey, in her defense, I would have kept the money too," Jack piped up. "I mean, if I knew that society was going to ban my heroic lifestyle...oh wait...not a hero, don't care. But I'd still keep the money anyway. I mean, she did, why didn't you?"

"Guys, we're getting off track here," Violet said. She then turned back to her mother. "Okay, Mom...spit it out."

"Fine," Helen snapped. "It's about Divis Mal...he's my father!"

Bob was taking a sip of his water when Helen was making her revelation. He ended up spitting some of it out while choking on the rest.

Violet blinked at that revelation, then shook her head again. "I'm sorry," she said. "Did you say what I think you said?"

The smirk on Dash's face suddenly disappeared, his face becoming a cold mask.

Silence then fell around the table, and Helen could sense the tension starting to rise. She was about to say something, but Jack beat her to it.

"Y'know," Jack said, a thoughtful look on his face. "That explains a lot." Then he began to laugh. "Cool, I have grandpa...and he's a badass."

"That's not funny!" Dash snarled.

"No," Bob said. "It isn't. Helen...why didn't you tell me?"

"When should I have I told you, Bob?" Helen asked. "When I first met you, I assumed he was out of my life forever. Besides, what could I have told you? 'Hi, I'm Helen, I'm allergic to shellfish, I love long walks on the beach, and...oh yeah...my father is a nearly immortal being with the powers of a god-like deity'? Somehow, I don't think that would go over well."

Bob thought about that for a moment, then chuckled and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I guess that would have been a little too much to take back then."

Helen looked over at her daughter who had thoughtful look on her face. "Vi, you seem to be taking this rather well."

Violet shrugged. "Mom, I'm working at a tech company owned by the son of one of our greatest enemies...needless to say, this really doesn't surprise me." She shook her head and sighed. "Just more drama."

"I wish you wouldn't bring that up," Helen said. "I still don't trust that boy and I don't like him that close to you."

"Nothing to worry about in that department," Jack said. "I think he has a thing for the pink-haired chick. She's the one you really need to worry about."

"Look, Helen, no one's going to judge you." Bob got up from the table, and walked over to where Helen was sitting, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We all have our share of screw-ups in the family."

"Yeah," Dash grumbled. "It's not every day you find out you have a super-villain for a grand-father and everyone's okay with it."

"Dash, it's not like that..."

"Really, mom? Excuse me, but we're heroes. We're supposed to bring people like Divis Mal down. He's a crazy fanatic!" He got up and slammed his hands on the table. "First we find out that Syndrome's little bastard is around, he then suckers Violet to work for him, and then you tell us 'oh, by the way, we're related to a terrorist' and we're supposed to let that slide? Does that mean we've been living a lie all this time?"

"Look, son, this caught all of us by surprise," Bob said.

"Understatement of the year, Dad!" Dash snapped. "You know what...the hell with this. I'm taking a walk."

"No," Bob said. "You-" he was cut off by the sound of rushing air as Dash disappeared in a blur, "won't."

For several seconds, dead silence filled the room as nobody said anything, all of them simply staring at the empty space Dash was occupying only a short time ago.

Then Jack cleared his throat. "See," he said, "I have nothing on him in the tantrum department." He then got up out of his chair. "I take it the family discussion is over, can I go back to the PS3? I got a really cool NCAA tournament I need to get back to."

* * *

David Flynn stood in the empty parking lot of SST while he dialed a number on his cell phone for what was probably...he lost count. It had been a couple weeks since Zoe disappeared. The last time he talked to her, it was in the form of panicked phone call where she told David that her parents were moving and forcing her to attend the private school her mother taught at. She did promise she would call back, but after two weeks, David was worried.

He tried the various phone numbers of Zoe's parents and found them all disconnected except for the one at the Avalon Academy. He managed to talk to someone at Avalon who did confirm that Zoe was there, but her parents had explicitly forbidden Zoe to contact David. The number for the cell-phone he bought Zoe was still active, but she didn't answer. For a moment, he considered using his power to break through the communication grid and break into the American Crusaders mainframe, but he didn't want to risk having America's super team come down on him (along with Dicker and the NSA).

He shook his head again as he was forwarded to Zoe's voice-mail, and killed the connection.

 _Dammit, Zoe! I hope you're doing okay..._

He put the phone back in his jacket and started to make his way to the Mustang. A familiar "whooshing" noise made him stop and he smiled. He was about to welcome her back when the blur stopped in front of him.

In that moment, he realized two things. The first thing he realized was that it wasn't Zoe, because Zoe wasn't a guy and didn't have short blond hair. The next thing he realized, was that a fist was slamming into his face. That second realization was confirmed when that fist hit him in the side of the jaw and pain (along with a wave of dizziness) registered with his brain. He staggered a couple steps and heard the "whoosh" again right before he got kicked in the back of the legs. He dropped to his knees, but put his arms out to brace himself and prevent a face plant into the ground.

Then he heard that "whoosh" again, and felt something kick him in the stomach, the blow lifting him off the ground and throwing him several feet before he landed in a heap.

"Get up, you piece of shit!"

David shook his head and spit out some blood before looking up at his attacker. "Dash Parr," he said as he started to get up off the ground. "I was wondering when you were going to show up...though I didn't think you'd take this kind of approach."

"Things were fine before you showed up," Dash snarled. "Then you and that pink haired whore of yours had to ruin it."

David bristled at that comment, but realized that if he said anything hostile, Dash might proceed to use his speed to beat the shit out of him.

 _Unless I find a way to level the playing field. I know how your kind works, Dash...let's see if you're that predictable._

"First off," David said. "Zoe's not a whore, and I'd be careful with that kind of language around her. And second, if you have a problem with me...be a man for a change and try coming at me without your super speed." Then he flashed Dash a smug grin. "Oh, but you can't do that, can you? After all, if you didn't have powers, you'd just be a nobody."

Dash charged forward, at normal speed, throwing a flurry of punches that David managed to deflect. When Dash tried for a spin-kick, David stepped forward inside Dash's arc and landed a well placed punch that caught Jack on the side of the jaw. As Dash stumbled back, David followed up with a couple kicks of his own that brought Dash down.

"I gotta' tell ya, Parr," he said as he looked down at Dash. "You suck when it comes to a real fight. I could say you hit like a girl, but that would be an insult to girls. Besides, your sister is a much better fighter than you."

Suddenly, Dash kicked on the super-speed again, getting back up on his feet and charged into David, reverting back to normal speed as he grabbed David by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the black Mustang. He then punched David in the stomach and smiled in satisfaction as David dropped down to the ground.

"Wow...not so tough anymore, are you?" he asked.

To Dash's surprise, David started laughing as he got back up on his knees. "Why? Because I don't have super speed?" He shook his head and spat more blood on the ground. "You just proved my point, Parr. If you didn't have your super-speed, you'd be a normal guy with no skill, no talent, and no future. You call yourself a hero...you're not. You're just a bully with super-powers."

Dash charged forward, picking up David by the hair. He was going to deliver another punch to David's face, but stopped when he saw David smile.

"I rest my case," David said with a smirk. "Go ahead, hero. Beat the shit out of me."

Before Dash could react, he suddenly felt something cold and sharp press up against his throat.

"Okay, Parr, playtime's over." The voice was low and dangerous. To emphasize the point, Null moved the knife slightly, lightly scratching Dash's skin to the point that it was starting draw a little blood. "Back away from my boss before I do the whole world a favor and sever your vocal chords."

Dash let David go. "You think you can do that?" he sneered, getting read to kick in his super-speed.

Null's chuckle sent a chill down Dash's spine. "I may not have super-speed," he said, "but I know that I can keep up with you long enough to do some serious damage." The young Native American pulled his knife away from Dash's throat and stepped back a few feet. "Tell you what," he drawled as he simply stood there, arms down in a non-defensive posture, "I'll even let you take a free shot at me."

Dash was about to charge the other man, but, for once, common sense kicked in and he realized that Null seemed a little too confident. The fact that Null got the drop on him initially was warning enough that he was dangerous.

"C'mon, Parr," Null said. "You were more than willing to sucker-punch someone who didn't see it coming. Let's see you take on someone on your level." He then tossed his knife on the ground, which landed at Dash's feet. "And to make it fair, I'll even let you have a weapon."

That's when Dash realized that he truly was at a disadvantage. The cold look in the other guy's eyes told him that if they fought, it would be quick and brutal and there was good chance Dash wouldn't win.

So Dash did what most bullies did when they were facing an actual threat. He gave Null a look of disgust to cover up his own fear, then glanced down at David Flynn. "Neither of you are worth it," he sneered. Then he disappeared in a blur.

Null stood there for a moment and shook his head before walking over and picking his hunting knife up off the ground. He then walked over to where David was starting to pull himself up off the ground.

"Easy, buddy," he said as he helped David up. Then he smiled at David's bloody face and shook his head again. "Damn...now that was a beating."

"Glad you liked the show," David choked out, spitting out some more blood. "I think the fucker broke a couple ribs." He then looked up at his friend and smiled. "You took your sweet time getting involved."

"Sorry, I was kind of enjoying the whole thing."

"Yeah, I can see that." David leaned against the side of his Mustang and took a couple deep breaths. "Still," he said, "I got sloppy. I should have seen him coming."

"I won't argue with that," Null replied. "You were too busy worrying about Zoe and you let your guard down for a moment. Tends to happen to everybody at least once. Although, I have to tell you, I was impressed with the way you started to get the upper hand once he stopped using his powers."

"Like I said...he'd be a nobody without them." David then reached into his jacket and pulled out a small disc-like device. "I almost wanted to use this, but I didn't think it would be a good idea to let people know about it."

Null's eyes widened when he saw the device. He saw the blueprints for it a couple times in David's personal work-shop, he even helped design it. "You had a quantum dampener on you? And you didn't use it?"

David shook his head. "No. Like I said, don't think it would be a good idea if people knew that I had a way to temporarily neutralize their powers for a couple minutes. Besides, it won't work on all novas."

"But it would have worked on Parr, right?"

"Yeah, he's just a level 2 nova. But it wouldn't do much to someone like Divis Mal or Caestus Pax...maybe cut their power levels by about ten or twenty percent, but that wouldn't stop them from turning me into a pile of ash." Then he paused as he thought about it for a minute. "Actually, I take that back...it might stop them from turning me into a pile of ash, but I'd still be a deeply roasted corpse."

"But you're certain it would have worked on Parr?"

"Oh yeah...easily."

"And you still didn't use it?"

"Nope."

Null shook his head again and laughed. "You got brass ones, David, I'll give you that. Now c'mon...let's get you inside before you start bleeding all over your car's paint job."


	6. Five

**Disclaimer:** As usual, don't own Incredibles...Pixar and the Mouse do. Don't own Aberrant, White Wolf still does (but if I ever win the Mega-Millions, that will change).

 **Author's Notes:** Okay we are now officially over halfway through the Countdown series. Again...no body count in this one...sorry. But there is one coming, I promise. I've been hinting at this group called the "Church of Michael Archangel" since the end of "Interesting Times" and here they are. For those of you who are familiar with Aberrant 'verse (particularly you, Walker), I will admit that I did take some liberties with the leadership of the CMA, but I only have the one supplement to go on (and I don't think they made any others for this group). I know that Estaban Torano was more of a "spokesman" and not really part of the upper leadership, but I elevated his role a little. Oh...and Walker, yeah...about Arboghast...nothing changes in that regard. As usual...comments, criticisms, and threats are welcome, though pompous jackasses will be kicked to the curb (Yes, Jason Barnett and Agnar, that means you two!) Oh..and for those of you expecting Dash to receive some payback for what happened last chapter...sorry, not this time around.

* * *

 **The Church of Michael Archangel**

 _ **Assessment by the Office of Abnormal Religious Pathologies**_

 _This is an executive summary, gathering together extensive intelligence work and the reports of trusted operatives._

 _The Church of Michael Archangel is undoubtedly one of the most dangerous of the NARs (Nova-Associated_

 _Religions). We estimate that it has not less than 4,350 active members and at least 11,600 SUSS (Sympathetic_

 _Unaffiliated Supporters) of Grade 11 or higher. A random sampling of known members of this organization reveal_

 _firearm ownership rates from 2.2 to 3.4 times above the locally adjusted per capita firearm ownership rate._

 _The apparent disorder of the cult's organization indicates the presence of sophisticated planners. Many_

 _media observers have fallen for the cover story of gradual evolution. Obviously, the unified model of cult development_

 _presented by the Office of Criminal Organizational Socio-dynamics rules out any such possibility. We_

 _believe that the cult's operational center is, in decreasing order of probability, in Austin, Texas; Coeur d'Alain,_

 _ID or rural Montana._

* * *

 _ **Pacific Ocean**_

 _ **Somewhere off the California Coast**_

Buddy Pine calmly looked out the windows of the dining room/lounge area of the yacht, momentarily enjoying the panoramic view of Catalina Island before turning his attention to the palm-held computer. He thumbed through various options on a menu before bringing up the comm display. Satisfied with the settings for his upcoming teleconference with his new clients, he allowed himself a tiny smile.

Though he was still pissed that the Nakato had ripped off some of his property and had the gall to try to market it, he mentally applauded their taste in resources and toys. In this case, this lovely fifty meter long mega-yacht with helipad and the latest in state of the art electronic navigation that happened to be sitting in a marina just a half mile away from the Port of Vancouver. The little palm-held computer he had taken off one of the Nakato gave him all the information he needed regarding immediate assets in the local area. It was a simple matter of hacking into the yacht's automated security systems and killing off the seven security personnel on board.

From there, he made his way down to Seattle, where he emptied some of the Nakato's bank accounts and enjoyed a night at a posh hotel before heading down the coast where he hit San Francisco, California. He had told his prospective new clients that he would contact him within a week...he had hoped to establish his credibility with them by making an impact.

And he had made an impact. He killed well over a million people with his escape, but he really didn't want to advertise THAT just yet. He did succeed in killing an entire Nakato cell in Vancouver...something notable, but that really didn't count towards his credibility. However, destroying an entire Nova super-team, that was a winner.

Unfortunately, Buddy wasn't happy with that. Being the perfectionist that he was, he wanted a one-hundred percent kill ratio to present to his new clients, but he didn't kill all members of the San Francisco based Protectors. The little bitch called Blazestone managed to survive, though the media reported her to be in serious condition.

 _She should be dead, but nooooo...that little shit had to show up out of nowhere and ruin it._

Buddy wasn't sure who that unknown nova was that showed up, but he was going to find out. The bastard ruined his plans and actually came close to beating him. What made things worse is that he took a shot from Buddy's rail-gun and got up from it.

 _But that's okay...I'll have to come up with some heavier artillery next time. I wonder if the little fucker can regenerate when he's blown to pieces..._

He smiled at the mental image of the unknown nova being blown to bloody bits, then shook his head and chuckled. A quick glance at digital clock mounted above the entrance to the lounge told him it was a minute before seven in the evening. He brought up a now familiar phone number on the palm-held and had the yacht's communications system make the call. He then had the audio put through the room's speaker system.

"Yes?"

Buddy smiled as he recognized the voice as the same one he talked to before. "Hello...it's me again. I told you that I would contact you in five days. I just wanted to know what you thought of my display in San Francisco."

"I will admit it was fairly impressive," conceded the voice at the other end. "You did destroy an entire team of novas, though I heard one of them did survive."

"Yeah," Buddy admitted. "I screwed up, but still...her condition's critical and I doubt she'll be doing much for awhile." He grinned as he remembered the horrified look on the second Blazestone's face when she realized he was the man who killed her mother. "The little bitch is traumatized and facing off against an emotional cripple is a lot easier than facing healthy person."

"You have a point there."

"So, have you talked to your fellow colleagues in the movement?" Buddy asked as he thumbed through a web browser on the palm-held, bringing up a Church of Michael Archangel website.

"Yes, and I can say that we are all interested in what you have to offer."

"Good to know. I'm pulling up your website now and I'm sending you an e-mail with an encrypted code. Pass it on to your colleagues and have them use that when they make a visual call. I'll expect to talk to four of you within the next hour."

"You seem fairly confident dictating terms Mr..."

"For all intents and purposes, call me 'Gabriel', Doctor Piper."

To Buddy's surprise, Micah Piper laughed. "An interesting choice of alias," he said. "Did you choose it out of sarcasm or irony?"

"A little bit of both," Buddy admitted. "You have one hour, Piper. I'll be waiting. And trust me...you will not be disappointed."

Buddy then killed the connection and then brought up more files on his palm-top. He then had the large plasma screen on the wall of the lounge flash to life, displaying the data on the palm-top. He then pulled up the Project Utopia website, and then clicked on the "Team Tomorrow Headquarters Virtual Tour" link. Another sub-menu popped up, showing the available packages for T2M-Asia/Pacific, T2M-Europe, T2M-Central, and T2M-Americas.

He selected the T2M-Americas option and watched as the virtual tour activated. As the air-headed blonde walked the viewer through T2M-Americas headquarters in Mexico city, Buddy shook his head in disbelief.

 _A new age of supers, and people are so willing to reveal their secrets to the public...definitely not like the old days where the concept of "secret identity" meant something._

Then he shrugged it off, walked over to the small wet-bar in the lounge, and helped himself to a beer as he watched the tour continue.

 _Oh well...at least it will make things easier for me._

 _ **Syndrome Software & Technology**_

 _ **Metroville, California**_

"Dammit, Null, I'm going to be fine," David snapped. "I'm not taking these painkillers, even if they are extra strength and do work on a nova."

"C'mon David, that's Doc Taylor's orders," Null said, placing a bottle of water and two large white caplets on David's desk. "He may have been able to repair the broken ribs, but you have to take it easy for the next day or two to completely heal from it."

David shook his head. "No...the last time Nigel Taylor gave me pain killers, it made me a little wonky."

"Oh yeah..never heard you sing Pink Floyd's 'Learning to Fly' before." Null chuckled as he remembered that day. "Too bad we didn't have a karaoke night going, you probably would have won."

"It's not funny, Null."

"Maybe not for you, but it was for Zoe and me."

"Don't remind me," David grumbled. "Zoe still has that video of it."

Null gave his friend an evil grin. "Yeah...I know...and it shall be preserved for all time."

"You're an asshole, Null."

"And very good at it," Null replied, his grin getting even bigger. Then his grin faded as he replayed the night's events and a thought crossed his mind. "Do you even know what made the little shit come after you like that?"

David shook his head. "No, can't think of any real reason," he replied. "I mean, why now? I didn't say anything to his family lately. I think Violet would have warned me if something was happening."

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah...for the most part. Violet may not fully trust me, but I don't think she'd just sit by and let her brother beat the hell out of me like that." David smiled back at Null. "If she had a problem with me, she'd beat the shit out of me all by herself. And to be honest, I'd be more worried about her than her brother. She likes to break jaws when she's pissed."

"Oh yeah," Null said, his grin returning as he remembered Violet's fight with Kari McKeen. "I heard Firewing had to have her jaw wired shut for two weeks. Must be torture for that bitch...being unable to talk and not use her mouth at all...I bet Pax must have been disappointed. No action because his toy's in traction."

David was sipping his bottled water and almost choked on it when he heard Null's comment. After gasping a couple seconds before recovering, he looked at Null and shook his head. "You just had to go there, didn't you?"

"Why not?" Null shrugged and waited until David took another sip of water. "Besides, knowing Pax, he's probably just shooting blanks, so McKeen probably isn't missing much"

Again, David started choking on his water. "Dammit, Null!"

Null was about to say something else, but stopped when the door to David's office opened and Violet entered. "Hey, David, I just wanted to-" Violet stopped in mid-sentence when she saw David. "What the hell happened to you?"

Null and David looked at each other moment, as if trying to decide whether they should tell the truth. David was the first to say something, cutting Null off. "Ah...it's nothing, had a run-in with a pissed off individual who doesn't like young enterprising geeks."

"Ooookay," Violet said. "Now I know you're lying." She turned to look at Null. "What happened?"

Null paused for moment, then nodded. "That's exactly what happened," he said, "David had a run-in with someone who doesn't like geeks."

"And we're not lying," David added. Then he rubbed the side of his head. "Ow...maybe I should take one of those painkillers."

"Okay," Violet said again, this time her voice taking a more serious tone. "As your VP, and friend, I am asking you what happened."

"Hold up," said Null. "David made you VP?"

"Wait...we're friends?" asked David. "When did that happen?"

Null pretended to cry. "I thought I was going to be Vice President of the company," he pretended to whine. "You lied to meeeeeeee."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you'd love to sit in an office and do corporate stuff," David fired back.

"Wait...that means actual office work?" Null shuddered at that thought. "Never mind, I take that back." He glanced back at Violet. "You can be VP."

"Gee, thanks," Violet deadpanned. "And yes, David, I do consider you a friend...sort of."

"Wow...a 'sort of' friend." David thought about it for moment, then nodded. "Okay, I can accept that."

"So, would you mind telling me why half your face is swollen?"

"Bad hockey game?" David offered. After seeing Violet's eyes narrow, he then said, "I was sparring in the gym?"

"Don't think she's buying it, Dave," Null said.

"I think you're right, Null."

"Look," Violet said, "I've had a really bad night...so can you two cut the crap and just tell me what happened?"

"Ah, I take it dinner at Casa Parr didn't go to well?"

"No, David, it didn't. It turned into a family argument and Dash lost his cool and ran off..."

Violet suddenly stopped, her eyes widening as she realized something. "Oh shit," she muttered. "He came here, didn't he?"

Null and David glanced at each other again before nodding.

"And for the record," David said, "I want it stated that your brother has some serious personal issues."

"Oh god! David, I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for, Violet? Your brother threw a temper-tantrum and I ended up on the receiving end." David then tilted his head to one side, a thoughtful look on his face. "Although, I am curious...what happened at the Parr dinner table that made your brother morph into a drama-queen?"

This time, Violet hesitated. For a moment, she almost considered telling him the truth, but decided against it and shook her head. "I'm sorry David, it's a family thing. No offense."

"None taken."

"Okay, then," Violet said. She then sat down in the other empty chair in David's office. "So...you want to tell me what happened?"

"No, not really," David replied with a smirk before wincing. "Ow...shouldn't laugh...hurts like hell. Look, Vi, it's not that big a deal...your brother went 'drama-queen' and proceeded to beat the shit out of me via super-speed, end of story."

"Okay, this ends now." Violet pulled her cellphone out of her pocket and started dialing. "I know Dash is pissed off about tonight, but he had no right to take it out on you."

"Who are you calling?"

"My parents."

David got up and reached forward to grab Violet's cellphone out of her hand. "Don't do that," he said, then he winced again and dropped back into his chair. "Ow...okay...maybe I'll take half a pain pill." He set Violet's phone on the desk and picked up one of the white tablets.

"David, this is serious!"

"What would you have me do, Vi? Talk to your parents? In case you didn't notice, I'm not exactly popular with them. They think I'm Syndrome Jr. or something like that."

"True, but even they wouldn't stand for this!" Violet slammed her hand down on the desk to emphasize her point.

"Ow! No sharp tones and loud noises, please," David half-whined. He then looked over at Null who was silently sitting there, smiling as he watched the confrontation play out. "What you're not going to say anything?"

"Why should I?" Null shook his head, his grin getting even bigger. "I'm having too much fun watching you two go at it."

David gave his friend a one-fingered salute and shook his head. "Fuck this...I'm going to crash upstairs in one of the resident suites." He broke one of the pain pills in half and swallowed one of the halves while putting the other in his pocket. "We'll talk about this tomorrow," he said as he got up and half-stumbled for the door.

"But David-" started to argue.

David cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Let it go until tomorrow Violet," he said while opening the door. "Just don't bring your parents into this. We'll talk tomorrow and maybe you can explain why you're wearing tight leather and carrying a whip."

Violet blinked for a moment, not sure if she heard correctly. "Um...David, what was that? I'm not wearing leather and carrying a whip."

David's eyes were glassy for a moment until he shook his head. "Damn...even half strength, these are a bitch..." He then dropped to his knees. "Null, tell Nigel I'm going to beat the shit out of him." Then he fell forward, unconscious.

Null arched an eyebrow, still sitting in his chair. "Damn...Nigel really improved the mix."

Violet got up and walked over to where David had fallen. "C'mon, help me get him upstairs."

"Why?" Null laughed. "This is funny as hell."

"Null!"

"Alright, alright...jeez." Null got out of his chair and helped Violet pick David up off the ground. "To be honest, he does own this place...technically, this is his home, we could just leave him there." Then he gave Violet an evil grin. "Or we could dress him up in drag and take pictures."

"Okay, I thought you two were friends," Violet said.

"We are," Null replied as he and Violet dragged a now snoring David to an elevator. "In fact, we'd be willing to die for each other," he added, his smile fading slightly and a haunted look in his eyes. "Very few people have earned my trust and David's one of them." Then the smile returned to full form and the haunted look faded. "But that doesn't mean we can't play practical jokes on each other."

They took the elevator to the third floor and dropped David on a couch in one of the residential suites. As they headed back to the elevator, Violet decided to bring something up that been bothering her about Null.

"Hey, Null...I was going through the employee files and I noticed that you're not listed. You're not even on the payroll."

Null smiled at her as the entered the elevator and the doors closed. "And yet," he said, "I still collect a paycheck...funny how that works, isn't it?"

"As the VP, I should have access to all employee records. I tried a background check on you and guess what...it's like you don't exist."

"Really?" Null paused for a moment, a confused expression on his face. "Well, then if that's the case, then you have a problem. If I don't exist, then I'm not really here." The doors to the elevator opened when they reached the first floor and Null stepped out before turning to face Violet. "Therefore, that means you've been talking to yourself...not a good sign of mental stability."

Before Violet could respond, the elevator doors closed on her. "Hey!" she snapped, pushing the button to open the door. "You can't just..." she started to say as the doors opened, only to find herself staring at an empty corridor, "disappear like that."

She stepped out of the elevator and looked around the empty SST lobby.

"Dammit, I hate when he does that."

 _ **Pacific Ocean**_

 _ **Somewhere off the Coast of Baja**_

Buddy studied the four individuals that appeared in a four-way split screen on the digital screen that took up one wall of the state room. He spent the last few days learning about these four and while he had been in contact with Micah Piper, he still didn't know what to make of the other three who made up the rest of the inner-circle that controlled The Church of Michael Archangel.

Micah Piper was a man in his early 60s with graying hair and sharp facial features that reminded Buddy of a predator stalking its prey. Their was a cold and calculating intelligence in the man's eyes that made it very clear that he was not one to be trifled with. Even now, Buddy was certain that Micah Piper had people off-screen somewhere trying to track his position, or at the very least locate where he was transmitting from.

 _Then again, he is the acknowledged leader of their movement. He's probably got the same people keeping tabs on his colleagues as well._

The second man on the screen struck Buddy as an odd figure. A blond haired man in his early fifties or late forties, Reverend Theobald Horton looked more like slick used car salesman or some seminar speaker. For a moment, Buddy was expecting the man to suddenly start talking about some new "money making technique". However, one look at the man's eyes told Buddy that, like Piper, there was an intelligence there...one that was willing to kill and do whatever it took to accomplish his goal.

 _Then again, this guy tends to put on a friendly face to the public, then has some thugs show up in the middle of the night to torch someone's house because they might be a suspected nova. If anyone is taking pages out of the Ku Klux Klan handbook, it would be this fucker. He's got that slightly unstable gleam in his eye...more than the others...better be careful of him._

The third man was also in his forties, a Hispanic minister from LA, Estaban Torano seemed like the odd man out of the bunch. The friendly smile on his face, along with the way he gave the CMA a "human" face to the media, was one of the main reasons the Michaelites got support from a large portion of the baseline community. When he debated with critics, he would present a strong argument with facts to back them up.

 _And like the others, this man also possesses an intelligence. However, I don't think he has that "killer instinct" or the desire to get his own hands dirty. Though I'm sure with the right words and argument, he could motivate others to do the job. I wonder if he and Horton have each other on speed dial._

The final man, the youngest of the group, was a young minister from New York in his mid-thirties. Reverend Milo Arboghast. There was something about the man Buddy didn't like at all. Actually, he didn't like any of them that much, but there was something about Milo that just didn't seem right. The man had the look and air of a true-believer/fanatic and yet...something just didn't seem to fit.

 _He really doesn't have much of a track record as the others, but he has a strong following in New York, which speaks much about the man's charisma in a place where most of the population support the novas who live there. But what is it about this guy that bugs me?_

Buddy mentally shoved that question to the back of his head and smiled at the four men on the screen. "Gentlemen," he cheerfully greeted them. "I am pleased to meet you face to face...sort of."

"What is the meaning of this?" Horton asked, a sneer tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You disrupt our shipment with the Nakato, destroying an operation that took us a month to set up."

"I assure you, Mr. Horton, I did all of you a favor. The Nakato's suppliers were giving you a sub-standard product." Buddy returned the man's sneer with one of his own. "Besides, if they were truly competent businessmen, I wouldn't have been able to kill them all like I did."

"And if you're contacting us just to belittle us, that is a grave error on your part," said Torano.

Buddy rolled his eyes. "Oh please, spare me the threats, Reverend," Buddy said. "I've killed more novas in the last week than you have in the last year."

"We took down the Houston Tornado." Milo Arboghast's tone was cold and even as he spoke. "And we didn't need any of your high-tech weaponry to do it."

"Wow," Buddy chuckled. "So you took out a drunk with superpowers after he downed a couple kegs. Big deal. Newsflash, he was incredibly stupid, and you were incredibly lucky. You killed one nova, a low level one at that, and I really doubt you'll be able to pull off something like that again."

Arboghast was about to respond, but was cut off by Piper who cleared his throat before speaking.

"Brothers, I do believe Mr. Gabriel's actions have earned him the right to be heard out. It's obvious that he has access to technology that is more than capable of killing the devil's own."

"That's not what I heard," Torano snorted. "You didn't kill that entire team in San Francisco."

"Maybe not," Buddy replied, " but it still puts me two up on you." He then dropped the humor out of his voice. "Look, gentlemen, I'm here to talk business. You want to destroy novas because you believe them to be Satan's messengers."

"They are!" snarled Horton.

Buddy resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. _Damn fanatics...just can't reason with them._

"Believe what you want Reverend Horton," Buddy said. "I see them as genetically altered beings who need to be reminded that they are still flesh and blood and don't rule world just because they fly, shoot laser beams, or fart an eerie green mist that glows in the dark."

That comment actually got a chuckle from three of the men, though the hint of a smile did tug at Arboghast's mouth.

"So what do you propose, Gabriel?" asked Piper.

"Gentlemen, as I'm sure you've seen from the news coverage of San Francisco, I have a new type of rail-gun and body armor that I intend to produce and make available to you. Yes, the rail-guns are fairly expensive compared to the armor, but I'm sure we can make some sort of deal. Besides, I'm sure I can provide you with other toys that are more affordable. Granted, I won't be able to go into mass production for at least another month or two, but I'm sure I can hook you up with ample supply until then."

"Sounds a little too good to be true," said Horton. "What's the catch."

"Oh, no catch," said Buddy. "We'll have to hammer out some sort of monetary deal, but it'll be a reasonable one. As for my motivation...well, I've been out of the game for five years now. Before that, I was on the run for three years. I'll be the first to admit that I have an agenda of my own. You want to kill novas, and I don't care how many you kill so long as you stay away from the ones I want to target."

"Exactly who did you have in mind?" Piper asked. From the looks on their faces, Buddy could tell they were all interested.

"Syndrome Software and Technologies," Buddy said, though he couldn't help the venom in his voice when he spoke. "I don't care if you cause trouble for them and target some of the little people David Flynn has working for him, but Flynn is mine. Also, though I understand they're not quite as active as a team anymore, I want you to keep your distance away from The Incredibles as well."

"And why should we agree to this?"

Buddy gave them a cold smile. "Because, Mr. Arboghast, I killed a Utopia sponsored super team and, in order to earn your trust, I am going to give you additional little present this week."

"What kind of present?" asked Piper. Buddy wasn't sure, but he could have sworn he heard a little bit of apprehension and maybe even some fear in the man's voice.

"Let's just say that I want you gentlemen to understand that San Francisco was not a fluke. Consider it an early Christmas present from someone who shares most of your views when dealing with false gods. Keep your eyes on the major news networks for the next couple days, it's going to get interesting." Buddy's smile broke into a big toothy grin. "Just do yourselves a favor, if you have people in the Mexico City area...you might want them to lay low or just pull out...it's going to get really bloody."


	7. Four

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Incredibles, don't own Aberrant, don't own PSI (though ICE doesn't care how you use or tweak their organization). Incredibles is owned by Pixar/Disney. Aberrant owned by White Wolf Media. PSI was originally created by Iron Crown Enterprises/HERO games...though they haven't released an update for the organization since the "reboot". Jake Peters was created by someone over on Plothook (don't know their real name, but Jake is their creation). Not sure who owns House...but I don't. Scrubs is also owned by Disney.

 **Author's notes:** As usual, I want to thank the usual suspects, Nullchronicler, Cyrus, Shannon, Concolor, Artificus, Walker, and others. I also want to thank Zarthrax and various members of the "Interesting Times" RPG for their input and permission...yes people, there is an online "play by post" game of this fic. Bomber is my sick and twisted creation, Slapstick is owned by Crazystick (he's the guy who also originally created Zoe). Oh yeah...and you can blame Zarthrax and Jake Peters' creator for this little plot line. When I read the angle they were running, I realized "Oh shit...this makes sense, why didn't I think of it?" So, with permission, I decided to borrow/use/steal that sub-plot and use it.

* * *

" _Despite the recent misunderstanding with a Utopia team, Syndrome Software & Technology seems to have taken the world by storm. In fact, some have gone so far to say that the skirmish at SST has actually attracted international attention. Already, t-shirts with the SST logo have surfaced and sold like wildfire, particularly in the United States where some people question the sincerity of Project Utopia."_

" _And then there is the young man behind it all...David Pine Flynn, mega genius and admitted son of the late Buddy Pine. Though he has been forthcoming about his background, there are those who wonder if he intends to follow in the footsteps of his unstable father. Tonight, on N!Sight, we will investigate this young man and find out what he's truly about..."_

\- N!Sight promotional segment, N! Channel.

* * *

 _ **Camden Meadow Apartments**_

 _ **Metroville, California**_

Jake Peters considered himself to be a simple man with simple tastes living a relatively simple life...well as simple a life a being like himself could have. Many people would think that being a nova meant power, fame, fortune, and all the other perks that came with it. There were times that Jake really wanted to track down the people who actually believed that bullshit and toss them through a plate glass window.

Unfortunately, that would draw unwanted attention, attention he really didn't need...not if he wanted to keep his current life as Jake Peters. He lost track of his previous life, preferring to live this new life and try to forget the past. What really bothered him at times was the fact that he actually thought of himself as "Jake Peters", his previous identity just a distant memory...not that it was really worth remembering.

So, here he was in Metroville, Jake Peters, freelance bouncer/body-guard and all-around badass for hire. It really wasn't that bad of a gig. It allowed him to use his abilities and skills in a way that didn't arouse suspicion, and the work was steady. With the money he made and, given his simple tastes, he was able to make a semi-comfortable living. The only down-side was the rundown motel he paid rent at. There were times he was tempted to find a home to buy or rent, but he felt it was too risky. It was better to keep things simple and live at a sleazy dive that could easily be abandoned if certain associates from his former life managed to track him down.

But that still didn't change the fact that he had to deal with what had become a regular ritual every couple weeks...a ritual that consisted of him being awakened at six in the morning by that annoying pounding on his front door which was accompanied by a equally annoying thick Eastern European accent demanding this month's rent.

For a moment, Jake just laid there in his bed, hoping the annoying little bastard would stop pounding the door and go away. He didn't get much sleep, seeing as how he pulled security detail for three bachelor parties the night before and he hadn't gotten home until about...well...only an hour and a half ago.

The pounding on the door persisted, and the little shit was screaming about using his master key and swearing in some language that may or may not have been Russian.

Jake shook his head. _I swear, one of these days I'm gonna' rip one of his appendages off._

He slowly got up, grabbing his bathrobe off the foot of the bed. He then walked over to the desk that was against the other wall of his room and grabbed an envelope out of a drawer that he kept around for this occasion. When he reached the front door, he said nothing. Instead, he waited until he could hear the jingling of the key-chain and the sound of a key being slid into the lock.

That was when he suddenly opened the door, which actually made the man jump in surprise. Jake held the envelope in front of the man's face, resisting the urge to swat the little shit in the face with it.

"You see this?" he asked, not really expecting an answer. "It's early, I work nights, I'll keep this short and sweet as I'm not in a good mood. I have here receipts, signed by you, for the rent here." To emphasize his point, he pulled some of the paperwork out of the envelope and waved it in front of the other man's face. "As you can see, I've not only paid up, but I've paid ahead for a few months. Now, until I haven't paid you, or I need something fixed and call you, you need to go away and leave me alone. And maybe you need to write this down so you don't come around here bothering me and maybe catching me in a worse mood. Or maybe I can write it down for you..I know a tattoo artist that would be happy to put it on your arm or whatever body part you are most likely to look at. Now, good day."

Jake then slammed the door in the landlord's face, cutting the man's protests off. He waited a few seconds to see if the bastard was going to push his luck and pound on the door again. Instead, the man shuffled off down the hallway to bother the next tenant.

 _It might be time to upgrade to an actual apartment._

He contemplated heading back to bed for a few hours, but he was too pissed off to sleep now. He returned the envelope back to its desk drawer and headed off to the bathroom, hoping a half-hour under the shower would calm him down and make him stop thinking about tossing his landlord into oncoming traffic.

Forty-five minutes later, he was on his motorcycle, the Boss Hoss' engines roaring loudly as he made his way through the downtown Metroville area. He normally wasn't out this early in the day, so he found himself wandering around semi-aimlessly through town until he made it to one of his usual haunts, a little diner called "Morrie's".

Though it easily fit the stereotype of a "greasy spoon" establishment, the food was good...actual home-style cooking and a decent price. The fact that it also sat across the street from Metroville High School made it a regular for students and faculty during the day. Rumor had it that old Morrie Tate was thinking about opening another place on the north side of town, but the old man and his family dismissed that as a rumor.

In the year that he had been coming to this place, Jake got to know Morrie and the usual crowd that hung out in the late-night/early morning hours. So, it was kind of a shock to Jake to be coming into the joint at a little after seven in the morning and being welcomed by the morning smells of bacon, eggs, and pancake batter.

 _Damn...I may have to start coming here in the mornings._

He waved at the middle-aged woman behind the counter, Connie...Morrie's sister and business partner. "Mornin' Connie," he said as he took a seat at the front counter.

"Jake Peters?" The woman asked, half-surprised at seeing a "regular" come in this early. "What the hell are you doing here this early? You're usually showing up at the end of my shift when Morrie takes over."

Jake smiled at her and picked up a menu on the counter. "Annoying landlord," he replied. "Woke me up, couldn't get back to sleep, so I decided to grab something to eat."

Connie shook her head as she poured him a cup of coffee. "Still living in that flea-trap? You really need to get out of there."

"Believe it or not, I'm seriously considerin' it...Yuri's starting to piss me off." He opened up the menu and started to look at the contents. "So...what is this strange stuff in the menu?" he asked half-jokingly. "This strange thing called an omelette...hash browns...pancakes?"

Connie laughed at him. "It's breakfast, Jake."

"Breakfast...what is this 'breakfast'?" He chuckled and took a sip of coffee. "Okay...I'll take a Denver omelette with pepper-jack cheese, some home-style potatoes, and four-stack of 'cakes" He pulled a twenty about of his wallet and handed it to Connie. "Keep the coffee comin' too, will ya?"

Jake continued to drink his coffee and helped himself to a newspaper that a previous customer had abandoned while Connie passed his order to the cook in the kitchen. Fifteen minutes later, he had made his was way half-way through the sports section when Connie placed his order in front of him. He was about to thank her when he noticed the annoyed look on her face.

"What's wrong?"

Connie shook her head, failing to hide her disgust. "Nothing...it's just that the Assketeers have arrived."

Jake followed her gaze and turned around in his seat and saw five young men wearing high school jackets making their way across the street towards the diner. Even without the jackets, Jake could tell they were jocks from their arrogant swagger and the way a small group of cheerleaders flocked around them. His gaze went beyond that group and momentarily focused on the other students starting to arrive at the school, some by bus, some on foot, and others by car. He couldn't help being reminded of his own "High School Days" as he picked out the usual groups...the jocks, the preppies, the geeks, the slackers, and...of course...the cheerleaders...kind of hard to miss the young ladies and their semi-revealing attire.

He managed to stifle his snicker.

 _The more things change, the more they stay the same. I guess it's true...nothing ever changes, it just looks different._

Though, in his day, the school he attended almost always had a stabbing, a drug-bust, or the occasional murder. Police were a common sight and that was at least a decade before the Columbine shootings ever happened.

 _Then again, my generation was already aware of the shit-hole this world could be...it just took the rich white trash another decade to get to that point._

It wasn't a racist assumption, just a statement of fact. He grew up in the the inner city...most of the naive idiots who attended a school like Metroville High were of the upper middle-class and above. To them, school shootings were only a remote possibility, only those with no future or 'loners' did shit like that. Metroville High was also one of those schools that the local politicians always made sure the school got a good share of the money meant for education.

"Now be nice," Jake said, amused by Connie's reaction, though he couldn't blame her. "They are paying customers."

"Yeah, but they act like they own the place. The blond shit with the spiky blond hair, that's Dashiell Parr, he leads that little pack making their way here."

 _Dashiell Parr...why does that name sound familiar?_

He had heard that name, but from where? Then his gaze fell on the sports section of the newspaper, particularly the article talking about local athletes.

 _Ah yes...the local 'all-star'._

"I take it he's bad news?" he asked.

"Not if you're the school principal or a coach. He's an all-star athlete with an ego to match...he and his crew come here a few times a week and leave the place a mess."

"Why don't you ban them?"

"Tried that once," Connie said, a sad look on her face. "And the school board suddenly decided that no students would be allowed to leave campus for lunch. After Morrie had a discussion with the coach, the school board changed their mind."

"Shit...and I thought corruption only happened in politics."

"Well, people have to learn it from somewhere."

Jake shook his head and went back to eating his breakfast as the aforementioned group entered the building and too a couple booths near the door.

"Yo, how about some service here?" one of the other jocks called out.

Jake minded his own business and resumed eating his meal while Connie dealt with the teens who would start to order something, then change their mind, then order something else, then change their mind again, then order what they originally ordered, but changed it and went with something simple and cheap. He could hear Connie grumbling under her breath as she walked by and passed the order to the cook in the kitchen. He also heard the snickers and laughter from the teens.

 _Damn...I know my generation was bad in my day, but these kids are assholes._

As Connie cleared away his empty dishes, he continued to drink his coffee, studying the group. From what he observed, Connie was right, the blond haired jock was obviously the leader of this little group probably through personality, some brute force and...there was something else. He wasn't sure what it was, but there was something about Dashiell Parr that made him a little uneasy.

 _The kid acts a little too sure of himself...maybe it's cockiness...but that doesn't feel right...there's something more to it._

Suddenly, that was when he and the blond jock made eye-contact. There was something in the kid's eyes, an arrogance...and a challenge. Jake wasn't sure why but, for some reason, the Parr kid saw him as something that resembled a threat to his domain.

 _Great...a teenage punk with a chip on his shoulder...I really don't need this kind of shit._

Jake hoped a friendly smile and a nod would be enough to end the situation and decided to return his attention to his newspaper, this time focusing on the International section which was talking about the freak Tsunami disaster in the Indian Ocean from several days ago.

"Is there a problem, old man?" The punk was getting up from the table and approaching him, two of his fellow jocks flanking him.

 _Shit...was is this kid's problem?_

Jake shook his head and smiled again. "No kid, I got no problem. Just enjoying my breakfast, though it looks like you seem to have one...or two...but don't worry, kid. Some day, the hair on your face will grow all the way in and the other one will drop, making that cracking in your voice go away as well."

Jake heard something drop in the kitchen and the sound of someone trying to stifle their laughter. He also heard Connie snicker from over by the coffee maker.

"Look," he said, "I'm just trying to finish up my breakfast, so why don't you and your two suck-ups head back over to the playground you came from. You can make up whatever story you want to impress the girls over there, okay? Now, amscray."

For a moment, nobody moved, Jake simply sitting there while the Parr kid continued to glare at him defiantly. It was obvious that he hit a nerve on the kid who thought Jake was apparently some nobody off the street. To the kid's credit, he didn't seem to miss a beat. Though there was a moment's hesitation, he hadn't lost his confidence.

"I don't think you quite get it," the kid said. "You have a problem." He glanced back over his shoulder for a moment. "Joey, make the call."

'Joey' nodded, walked a few feet away, pulled out a cellphone, hit three digits, and started to call.

"See," Parr continued, "the cops around here frown on overage perverts openly leering at the kids around here. Makes 'em a bit edgy. And considering Joey's dad is chief of police, the cops should be here in about three seconds. So, since I like you, I'm giving you a two second head start..."

This time Jake laughed in the kid's face. "Son, I was just sitting here enjoying my food. Making accusations like that will get you into a world of crap you don't even know. We can start with harassment, defamation of character, slander, and go from there." He then leaned back in his chair. "So please, get the police involved so I can file a formal complaint about young punks coming over here, getting in my face, interrupting my breakfast, invading my privacy and embarrassing me in public. And if his dad gives me grief...well, I know plenty of media and lawyers that will just eat this up. Oh...and by the way, Morrie's, the last time I checked, was a 'public' place and anyone can eat here. Believe it or not, they do serve customers other than your crowd."

Jake paused to take a sip of coffee. Then all hint of amusement disappeared and there was the hint of warning in his voice. "So take my advice, walk away." He then looked over at 'Joey' who was standing there with his cell-phone. "All of you."

Again, there was a moment of silence as nobody did anything, then Joey spoke up as he put his phone away. "He ain't buyin' it, Dash. Game over."

Parr turned to glare at his friend. "He was before you opened your big mouth, dumbass!"

The trio then retreated to their side of the diner and rejoined the others at the two tables they occupied. After a few minutes of arguing, the entire group got up and left. Jake looked over at where Connie was standing.

"Sorry about costing you some customers, Connie."

Connie shrugged and shook her head. "Don't worry about it, Jake. Tony didn't even start on their order...we figured they would leave the moment Parr got up in your face. Truth be told, you should come here more often for breakfast, keep the riff-raff out."

Jake smiled at her. "I might think about it, the food's good enough."

"I'm serious, Jake. Those idiots have gotten braver since the Kilmarten girl stopped coming here."

"The who girl?" Jake asked, curious now.

"Zoe Kilmarten," Connie said as she started to pick up the half-empty glasses from the two tables the teens had occupied and placed them in a plastic bin. "Hyperactive teen, dyed her hair pink...Parr and his friends stayed away from her and behaved themselves. Not sure why though...but she scared the hell out of them."

Jake chuckled at that image...a group of jocks terrified of some girl with pink hair. "You're joking, right?"

"No, I'm serious...scary little thing. She is the only sixteen year old I know who brings in a sixty-four ounce thermal mug, has me fill it with coffee, and then downs it in under five minutes."

"No way." Then Jake saw a sad look on Connie's face. "So what happened to her?"

"Rumor had it she was a nova and some people from Utopia showed up to take her. She hasn't been back since then and I learned her parents pulled her out of school." Connie then lowered her voice as she walked by him. "I heard that she was involved in that little skirmish at that new tech firm a few weeks ago."

 _Hmmm...interesting...sounds like I missed out on some things while I was in Vegas on that security job._

He watched the small group walk across the street, but he saw Dashiell Parr shoot him a look that plainly said "This isn't over". Jake shrugged and went back to drinking his coffee and finishing up the article he was reading in the paper.

Or, he would have if it weren't for the light clapping coming from another table. He looked up and saw a woman in her mid to late thirties with platinum blonde hair sitting at a table, a cup of coffee and two manila folders in front of her.

"Congratulations, Mr. ' _Peters_ '," the woman said. "Few people have the sand to stand up to the arrogant little pissant."

A couple things set off warning bells in the back of Jake's head, the first being that he knew that the woman had not been there a few seconds ago. The second thing was her emphasis on his last name which hinted that she knew it was an alias. However, the fact that she was merely sitting there sipping a cup of coffee and, while probably armed, didn't seem to pose much of a threat made him curious.

"Nah, he's a punk that's gotta be the bad ass. Somewhere he picked up a big chip for his shoulder. He'll grow out of it, probably after getting his ass handed to him a time or two." He grabbed his own cup of coffee and cautiously made his way to the table. "Now then," he said as he sat down across from the mysterious woman, "do I know you?"

The woman only smiled. "If you did, Mr. _Peters_ , then I'd be highly impressed." She then took another sip of her coffee.

"And you even know my name, though you're saying it all funny," Jake chuckled. "So tell me yours and we'll be even. So if you're looking for work, you definitely got what it takes, I can even get you started tonight."

"Doubtful, I have standards, Mr. _Peters._ "

Jake chuckled and shook his head. "Then why are you here? I know this game, even though the rules might have changed in the last few years. So...talk to me."

"It's good to know that you're not out of practice at this for all your attempts to run away from it," the woman said.

Again, warning bells went off in Jake's head. This person knew about his past...who was this woman? She wasn't one of the rogues that broke off like he did. Though he felt the fear forming in his gut, he managed to hide it behind a healthy dose of contempt in his voice. "You're PSI, aren't you?"

"Oh please," the woman scoffed, rolling her eyes. It was obvious she didn't like that comparison. "If I were PSI, I would have bolted you and operatives would have dragged you off." She paused to take another sip of coffee before continuing. "Relax, Mr. _Peters,_ PSI, as you know it, no longer exists, especially after Dicker and the NSA took down those in charge of the program." She actually shuddered a little when she mentioned Dicker's name. "I knew Dicker was willing to do whatever it took to protect his country, but even he surprised us."

" _Us_?" Jake repeated. "If you're not PSI, what are you?"

"That is irrelevant, Mr. Peters," the woman replied. "I am here strictly on a personal matter and wish to hire you for a job." She slid one of the folders across the table towards him.

Curious, Jake opened the folder to examine the contents which consisted of a photograph and a file for one David Pine Flynn, age 18, CEO of a newly formed Tech company called Syndrome Software & Technologies. Along with the file were a couple newspaper clippings and a business card with an address for SST. Jake took a few minutes to study the contents while the woman continued to sip her coffee.

"Okay," Jake finally said. "And what exactly do you want me to do with him?"

"It's quite simple, Mr. Peters," she said, not putting emphasis on his name, "I want you to get close to him, gather some intel, and occasionally pass that information on to a contact that I will send to you. I also want you to act as a bodyguard and make sure nothing happens to him unless I say so. And, under no circumstances, is he to know that you work for me." She then gave him another smile, this one cold and calculating. "Then again, you're used to that sort of thing, aren't you?"

"Let me get this straight," Jake said. "You want me to get close to some teenage punk mega-genius, spy on him, and, from the way you worded it, protect him unless you say otherwise...which means killing him might be an option."

"I'd rather not go that route," the woman said. Though she was calm and composed about it, Jake thought he caught the tiniest hint of emotion in her demeanor for a brief moment. "It may be necessary, but I hope it doesn't come to that."

"I see...and I suppose the second folder is dependent on whether I take the job or decide to walk out the door."

The woman smiled again, but there was nothing friendly about it, cold and calculating. "You've done this before," she said, sliding the other folder across the table. "Can't offer a job without setting up the consequences for not taking it."

Curious, and more than a little wary, Jake opened the folder and skimmed through the contents. Somehow, he wasn't too surprised as he read information that he had thought was erased...everything from his juvenile record, his time in the military, his stint with the NSA, his black-ops work for PSI, the mortgage to his house, the current location of his ex-wife under her new identity, and the names of the others who managed to disappear. He felt his anger start to rise...this woman had single-handedly compromised him and everyone he cared about. He was about to tell her to go to hell until he opened a piece of paper with a simple number written on it.

10,000,000.

"What's this?" he asked, holding the piece of paper up.

The woman took another sip of her coffee before answering. "That, Mr. Peters, is what you will get if you agree to the job. Everything else in that folder goes away permanently."

 _Ten million dollars...to simply watch over this kid? Who is he? And why is he so damn important to this lady?_

He really wanted to ask those questions, but knew better. Instead, he nodded in agreement as he closed both folders and pushed them back across the table to his new client. "Okay, I'm in...just one thing...how the hell am I supposed to get close to this kid? In case you didn't notice, I'm thirty-three years old, and you're asking me to hang around the young-adult/teen set."

"Well, I could say that you're a smart man, you'll think of something," the woman replied. "But it so happens that he is hiring a full security staff and is looking for experienced individuals, especially after a recent incident." There was a hint of disgust in her voice when she said the word "incident".

"Yeah," Jake said. "I heard about that little dust up with Utopia...I have to admit the kid's got some stones to face them down."

"Actually, I wasn't referring to that." The venom was very clear in her voice now. "I'm referring to the physical assault he endured last night. I'm hoping that won't happen again with you there."

"What happened? Did Utopia send someone to beat his ass."

"No." Again, the coldness in her voice could be felt. "And if that particular individual attacks Flynn again...well...don't kill him, but feel free to beat him to a bloody pulp and put him on a respirator." Then she smiled again. "In fact, given who it is, you might enjoy it."

He noticed her looking past him and followed her gaze which seemed to be focusing on the high school across the street. He then turned back to face her. "Okay, so what did you mean by-"

He stopped in mid-sentence when he realized that he was the only one sitting at the table. There was no sign of the woman he was talking to, no file folders, no coffee cup, and the chair she was sitting in was pushed up to the table, as if no one was even there.

"What...the...hell," he said slowly as he got up from the table.

"Oh, Jake...you're still here," Connie said as she came out of the kitchen. "I thought you had left because I didn't see you out here when I cleaned up the other table."

 _How could you not see me? I was out here having a conversation with some strange lady!_

"Oh..I was in the restroom," he managed to lie. "Then I got a phone call."

"Hell of a place to have conversation," Connie laughed.

Jake laughed as well. "Tell me about it...well, I'm outta' here."

"So what are you going to do this early in the day?"

"Oh I don't know," he said as he made his way out the door, pausing for a second to look back over his shoulder. "I was given a possible job offer, I think I'll check it out."

"Good, then you can move out of that shit hole!"

Jake chuckled at that as he made his way back to his motorcycle. A few minutes later, he was back on the road and heading over to the address he memorized from the file he had read, failing to notice the blue Mercury Sable he passed by and its platinum haired occupant.

Mirage watched him disappear around a corner a smiled sadly as she looked at the photograph of David Flynn. She wasn't sure why she was doing what she was doing. She really had no personal attachment to the boy.

 _Except that he IS your flesh and blood._

She shook her head, pushing that thought aside behind cold logic. Yes, the boy was technically her own flesh and blood, but through artificial means. The only reason she hired Peters to watch over the boy was to make sure the kid didn't turn into a monster like his father.

 _Yes...keep telling yourself that...maybe you'll actually believe it._

It was true, she had no emotional attachment...how could she have an attachment to something that was created from genetic material taken from her?

 _And yet...you still want to protect him from his father...from Proteus. You were even angered when the Parr boy beat the shit out of him...you even felt pride that your son, though outgunned, managed to fight back. For someone denying that they're a mother, you're doing a good imitation of one who is._

"Shut up," she said as she started the car and signaled to enter traffic. For a moment, she considered following Jake Peters to SST, but decided against it. She knew that, eventually, she would have to do something about her "son". But for now, having Peters protect him would have to do.

* * *

Mercy Memorial Hospital

San Francisco, California

BEEP….BEEP…BEEP…BEEP

Consciousness was slow in coming to Jean-Paul Renard. Then again, he was no stranger to losing consciousness, that was pretty much a given in the lifestyle he chose to live. The occasional job, one of his extreme tricks gone wrong, snowboarding accident, or tangling with one of the many novas who tried to beat the shit out of him…he was used to it.

And it always started the same way when he regained consciousness…the first thing he was aware of was blackness.

BEEP…BEEP…BEEP…BEEP

Yes, blackness…the shroud of darkness that always greeted everyone when they returned to the land of the living because their eyes are usually shut when they are unconscious…except for that one time when he drank a mixture of Jack Daniels and pure wood alcohol on a dare…he lost consciousness but, according to witnesses, Jean's eyes weren't closed.

BEEP…BEEP…BEEP…BEEP

But the beeping noise…that was new…his blackness never came with a beeping noise. It was an annoying beep too.

BEEP…BEEP…BEEP

"Shut up," he half mumbled. It took him several seconds, but he managed to open his eyes and blink them a couple times. This was normally the point where his vision would start to clear up, but he still kept seeing things in a blurry haze. "Whoa…foggy," he slurred. Why was he slurring? Was he on something? Did he drink another JD and poison cocktail? He tried to push himself up to a sitting position, but felt slight pain in both wrists as he tried to move his arms. He also felt slight pressure across his chest, causing him to look down and see that he was strapped to hospital bed and both wrists were handcuffed. "What the hell?"

"Oh shit," he heard someone say. "He's waking up…and the mox' levels aren't up to containment."

'Mox? They were shooting him up full of moxinoquantimine…that wasn't good, though that would explain why he was feeling groggy, the shit was hampering his accelerated metabolism and regenerative abilities.

Well…that can be fixed.

He closed his eyes and concentrated.

 _ **BEEP..BEEP..BEEP..BEEP…**_

"Fuck," he heard that same person say.

"What is it?" he heard a rough voice ask.

"His adrenaline levels are spiking. His body's metabolism is accelerating, breaking down the 'Mox and the sedatives we're pumping through him." Jean smiled at the panic he could hear in that voice. "At this rate, he'll be able to break free in less than a minute."

"Well, then," the rough voice said, "we can't have that, can we?" A shadow fell over Jean and he looked up to see a very large man in a black suit standing over and looking down at him. "Nighty, night, boy."

The last thing Jean saw was a large black fist, that seemed to crystallize into a hardened substance…at least, that's what he thought in that moment when the aforementioned fist slammed into his face and he felt his jaw break from the impact and the world suddenly exploded around him before being engulfed again in…yep…blackness.

* * *

Nicholas DeYorke unconsciously tugged at the blue medical scrubs he had borrowed off an intern who was tied up, gagged, and unconscious in a laundry bin somewhere. He had contemplated killing the little bastard, but that would have been bad for business. Sure, he may be known as the contract killer called "Slapstick", but he had standards…killing medical interns for free was not an option.

Especially when there was a six million dollar payday…and all he had to do was kill a friend to get it.

And yet, he still felt a little apprehensive…was it because he was going to kill a friend for six million dollars?

Naaaaaah, it wasn't that. Besides, Bomber would understand. In this line of work, you never turned down a profitable job, no matter who the target was. In fact, if the situation were reversed, Nick was certain that Jean wouldn't hesitate to take the contract and come after him. Hell, he would have been insulted if Jean had let some paltry thing like sentimentality corrupt his thinking and not taken the contract.

But still, he felt uneasy and he couldn't figure why. Could it be because of the various Project Utopia agents on the third floor where Jean-Paul Renard was located? Was it because there were several other nova mercenaries in the area, like Nick, who were also hoping to collect the "pot" of six million dollars on Jean's head?

No…no…that wasn't it either. Nick knew that there was a chance he might run into some other nova "elites" who were in on the "pot", but that didn't bother him. If they gave him trouble, he would put them down, maybe even kill them…which would add to his reputation and get him more contract deals.

No…it was just the simple fact that Nicholas DeYorke had learned to hate hospitals recently. Two years prior, he was in New Jersey, had been shot full of holes by the elite known as "Pursuer" and wasn't able to regenerate in time to make his way from the scene. Instead, he was found bleeding on the ground by paramedics and taken to the nearest hospital which, unfortunately, was a teaching hospital. Because of his unique physiology, he found himself under the care of a crazy drug-addicted doctor and his team of sycophants he abused for the hell of it. When he was able to heal his injuries and escape, Nick had contemplated on killing one Doctor Gregory House, but decided to let the bastard live and torment the control-freak bitch administrator who ran the hospital.

Then there was that other hospital he ended up in a few months ago in LA…Sacred Heart. He suppressed a shudder at the incompetency of most of the doctors there...though he was surprised that the one doctor he did like hadn't gone postal and shot the interns full of holes…especially the whiny one who seemed to be daydreaming all the time instead of paying attention to his work.

Oh yeah…he hated hospitals…the sooner he found Jean, killed him, and got the hell out of here, the better. He smiled as a pretty nurse walked by and nodded at her as he entered the elevator she had just exited. Then he hit the button for the third floor.

 _Just get in...kill Jean…get out…how hard can it be?_


	8. Three

**Disclaimer:** As usual, don't own Aberrant or Incredibles. White Wolf and Disney do...wish I owned Aberrant though. "Major Tom" was originally written by Peter Schilling (though Shiny Toy Guns did an awesome cover of it). "Surfing Safari" was performed by the Beach Boys (but I butchered the lyrics enough to make it fit Slapstick's mentality). Okay, that should cover the legalese.

 **Author's Notes:** Okay, I had a lot more for this, but I realized it was going nowhere and preventing me from wrapping up the Countdowns. However, some of that material will creep up elsewhere (*cough*WoA: First Strike*cough*). Oh...and for those of you who are wondering, Klaus Kleisner is the nova Elite called Totentanz. He's an all around badass assassin. He uses a couple of short battle-spears as his primary weapons. As I said before, I had a lot more for this, but it was bogging things down, so I kept what I thought was important to keep things moving. And yes...there is a small body count...happy?

* * *

 _Calling all Elites with an axe to grind! Your favorite annoying bastard, Jean-Paul Renard aka "Bomber" is currently in Utopia custody at Mercy Memorial Hospital in San Francisco...come one, come all...and happy hunting!_

 _-Anonymous post, MercNet, the Opnet site for Elites and those who watch them._

* * *

 **Mercy Memorial Hospital**

 **San Francisco, California**

 _ **Beep….Beep….Beep….Beep…**_

Jason Miller prided himself on the fact that almost nothing could faze him. "Borderline sociopath" was the term he had been given when he was younger. He didn't show much emotionally, but that was hardly a concern. The emotion he did display was usually that of defiance and arrogance; after all, that is what one should expect of a young man in his twenties and heir to his dead father's fortune. When his father died nine years ago, Jason not only inherited his father's holdings, but he also inherited his father's position in the Aeon Society which eventually led to his joining the secretive Proteus Council.

He learned very quickly to suppress his true feelings behind a mask, a cold and arrogant facade...it wasn't hard, he had very few friends growing up, so being aloof, distant, and arrogant came naturally. Very few people knew the real Jason Miller.

 _ **Beep...Beep...Beep...Beep...**_

Except for the comatose young woman occupying the hospital bed he stood next to. Blazestone...Tanya Mitchell...didn't matter. People knew her name; after all, she was a Utopia sponsored super. One of the "modern gods" of today.

Jason smirked at that thought.

 _Some gods we turned out to be...we're being picked off one by one by a fucking psycho._

"Hey, sis," he said, his voice unusually soft and missing his normal flippant tone. "I just wanted to check up on you. I know we kind of drifted apart, but I always thought I'd be the one who'd end up comatose and dead to the world."

He shook his head as a bitter chuckled escaped his throat. Even though Tanya was his half-sister, she was the only family he had left. They may not have gotten along all the time, but they would keep in contact and even occasionally meet up for the holidays.

"I'm sorry, Tanya...I really fucked up this time."

He paused, half expecting her to open her eyes and say "So what else is new?", but that didn't happen.

"Even though I voted against it, the Council decided to let that crazy fucker out...just to kill some little bastard who really wouldn't be a bother if we just left him alone...now it's all fucked up." Jason turned to look out the window, watching the sun set off in the distance, the city of San Francisco momentarily bathed in an eerie orange glow...the kind of glow one would see in the smoldering embers of a dying fire. Jason never considered himself a religious man, but he prayed to God that the scene was not a sign of what was going to happen to his sister.

"In addition to hurting you and killing your team, he killed over a million people in less than a week. And while I opposed his being released, I still blame myself for it. There are a couple others that feel the same way, but the rest of the council...they just want to play God and don't give a damn if the world burns. I thought I could help curb it, control it, but it's getting out of control. What scares me is that I think this is only the beginning and I don't even know how to stop it."

He smiled sadly at Tanya's unconscious form. "You know, the Council and Utopia directors see me as this cold and heartless little bastard who doesn't care about the decisions he has to make. I have to admit, having that kind of rep intimidates assholes who would normally give me a hard time, but let's face it...you were always the strong one. You could take a situation like that and figure out how to deal with it...until now. I just wish you were able to smack me around and talk some sense into me...but that's not going to happen anytime soon. The doctors say your condition is rare, not many novas have been in a coma like you. For once, the great Utopia experts on novas have no fucking clue on how to deal with a situation like yours."

He bent down and kissed her on the forehead before brushing a strand of red hair out of her face.

"Just do me a favor and don't check out on me, okay?"

The only response he got was the steady beep of the monitoring equipment. As he walked out of the room, he almost regretted lying to his sister. Actually, it wasn't a lie...he really didn't know what to do, but that didn't stop him from taking action. He had learned that the rogue elite known as Bomber had saved his sister's life. Unfortunately, someone high up in Utopia (or more likely in the Council) decided to let Bomber take the blame for the attack on San Francisco. After talking to some of the Utopia investigators on the scene, his suspicions were confirmed. So he decided to throw a wrench in things by anonymously tipping off members of the Elite mercenary community that the bane to their existence was half comatose in San Francisco. The distraction provided by their appearance would give Bomber a chance to escape.

All Jason had to do now was make sure Bomber was conscious enough to make his attempt.

* * *

Klaus Kleisner quietly stalked his way through the fourth floor. Invisible to the human eye, his eufiber body suit muffling his footsteps as he deftly made his way down a corridor, he took a moment to contemplate his target. Some would say that targeting Jean-Paul Renard while he was at his weakest would be poor form, and a lack of professionalism on his part.

But as far as Klaus was concerned, Renard was a blight on this profession, one that had to be put down. The bastard didn't have the good grace to die when he was impaled, tossed from the top of a building, shot, and blown up. Every time they clashed, Renard just wouldn't die and always buried him under whatever building they were fighting in.

 _But not this time...this time, Renard...you will die._

* * *

 _ **Beep….Beep….Beep….Beep…**_

 _Dammit, I really hate that beeping noise._

Jean didn't open his eyes this time when he saw the blackness. His jaw still hurt like hell and he was having a hard time trying to keep a firm hold on consciousness.

 _Okay…how long have I been out?_

"He's awake," he heard the rough voice say. "Want me to punch him out again?"

"No need," said another voice, this one belonging to a woman. "He's too juiced up now on 'Mox and has enough sedative running through his body to kill an elephant."

"Damn," someone else muttered. "What level is he?"

"Well," replied the woman, "his basic physical abilities are at the human physical maximum for someone of his age, strength, agility, reflexes…the maximum norm. But his regeneration and metabolism are at least Level Five."

"Jeez, what the hell does it take to kill this guy?"

"A lot," said the rough voiced guy. "I punched the bastard at full strength an hour ago, knocked him out cold, broke his jaw, and knocked out several teeth. The teeth have grown back, the jaw's pretty much healed, and all he has is a bruise that will probably be gone in a couple hours."

"Shit…no wonder Utopia wants this guy."

"He's also wanted for various crimes by Interpol," the woman said. Jean felt a firm hand on his shoulder. "Open your eyes, Renard," she said. "We know you're awake."

Jean did as he was told and saw a blond standing next to his bedside. Behind her, he saw the large black man with the rough voice and a smaller white man, all three were wearing black suits that basically screamed 'AGENT'."

"Hello," Jean said to the woman, trying to put as much charm as he could in his voice; after all, she wasn't bad to look at. "And who might you be?"

"Agent Richards, Project Utopia," the woman said.

"No first name?"

"Not to you," the woman snapped back. "Jean-Paul Renard, you're under arrest for reckless endangerment, several accounts of theft, assault, and murder."

"Whoa…murder? Who did I murder?"

"Four members of the Protectors, not to mention the various civilians that were killed from the collateral damage."

"WHAT?" Jean couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Says who?"

"According to various eyewitnesses who saw you descend upon the scene with that little glider contraption of yours...which by the way...is stolen property."

"Excuse me?" Jean couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You think I did this? What about the armored guy that brought the building down?"

"What armored guy?" Richards asked.

"You know, the guy with the weird jet-pack and boot-jets, had these funky gauntlets that radiated a blue energy...and some nasty ballistic weapons...that guy?"

The three agents looked at Jean in disbelief.

"Oh c'mon! You gotta' be kidding, I didn't do this!"

"No one saw a man in armor, Renard," said the black man who cracked his knuckles menacingly. "The only people they found on the scene were you and Blazestone. We figure you tried to finish her off, but she managed to bring the building down on you.

"What!? I'm sorry, do they treat mass stupidity when they recruit Utopia agents? Because your theory is a little fucked up and one hundred percent wrong! Look, ask Blazestone...I saved her ass from that other guy, and she recognized him." He tried to lunge forward against his restraints and was rewarded with a wave of dizziness that sapped his strength. "Whoa...spinning room...not cool."

"Oh shit," said the scrawny white agent. "He's spiking again!"

"Damn," said Agent Richards. "Was hoping it wouldn't get this messy."

"Fuck you, bitch," Jean said. He lost all feeling in his limbs, but his mind was starting to clear up; a sure sign his rapid healing was working overtime to flush the drugs out of his system. "I'll be out in a few minutes, and then I'm going to shove these tubes-"

He was cut off again as the obsidian black fist slammed into his face again. This time, he was thankful for the drugs, because it actually dulled the pain of the impact, but his head still snapped to the side and he heard something crack. However, he didn't lose consciousness.

"Uh-oh," said the black man. "He's not going down."

Richards sighed, calmly pulled a silenced pistol out of her jacket, and then proceeded to pump several rounds into Jean's chest.

Jean's body twitched and spasmed as the bullets entered his body, hitting his lungs and heart. "You...fucking...bitch," he managed to wheeze before falling back on the bed, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

"What's his status, Moore?" Richards asked as she loaded a new magazine into her pistol.

"Okay, that should keep him down for awhile and I just turned up the 'mox on him...still can't believe he was able to take a solid punch from Jenkins and survive you shooting him."

"All the more reason to get him transferred back to Utopia," Richards said as she checked Jean's restraints. "Jenkins, radio the others, tell them to get the chopper over here now and to make sure we have heavy doses of 'mox available."

The black man nodded and did what he was told. A few seconds later, he closed his cell-phone and looked back at her. "They'll be here in ten minutes. Security detail has cleared out the rest of the floor. Aside from Renard, we're the only ones in this section."

"Good." Confident that Renard was secure, Richards started to push Jean's bed towards the door. "Now let's get this piece of shit to the roof."

His world was blur of lights and muffled sound, barely anything was registering, although one thought did register on Jean's mind.

 _Damn...this is some really good shit...swirling lights and blackness..._

"Earth below us," he started to sing, not fully in control of his faculties due to the overload on the medications, "drifting, falling, floating weightless, coming hooooooooooooooooooome, hooooooooooome, hoooooooooooooooooome."

"Will somebody please shut him up!" Agent Richards snapped before turning to Moore who was fiddling with the bags of moxinoquantimine and other sedatives that were supposed to keep Renard silent.

"I'm trying," Moore said. "It's as if his body's immune system just kicked it up a notch." He readied a syringe filled with a faint green substance. "Okay, let's see what happens when I give him some-"

Agent Moore's head suddenly exploded, splattering Jenkins and Richards with blood and brain matter.

"Oh yeah!" someone shouted, their voice echoing down the hospital corridor. "One eumetal explosive shell through the agent's head...maximum splatter!"

Richards and Jenkins barely had time to register a man in blue medical scrubs, packing a heavy auto-pistol in one hand and wielding a short sword in the other before he suddenly jumped onto a nearby gurney and started riding it down the corridor like a surf board, firing as he approached them.

"Let's go killin' now, everybody's learnin' how," the intruder sang, "c'mon grab your nine-mils with meeeeeee!"

"Go!" Jenkins yelled to Richards as he charged the assassin, his ebony skin hardening to a shiny obsidian lair. "Okay, pal, end of the line."

Nicholas DeYorke managed to roll with the impact when the shiny black monster tackled him. Unfortunately, he didn't roll enough to prevent the bastard from landing on him which crushed his ribcage. "Ow," he managed to gasp. "That...hurt...a little."

Agent Jenkins got up off the ground, grabbing Nick by his throat. "You just killed a Utopia agent, boy," he growled, slamming Nick face first into a wall. "Which means I can use lethal force on you." He then threw Nick was down the corridor several feet where he landed on a cart loaded down with urine samples.

"Okay," Nick said as he stumbled back to his feet. "I'm pissed...oh...bad pun." Then he suddenly spun, releasing the short sword in his hand at the last possible second as Agent Jenkins charged him again.

Agent Benjamin Jenkins was a force to be reckoned with. His training, combined with the ability to turn his skin into black stone made him an almost unstoppable force. Unfortunately, that only affected his skin which would have easily deflected the blade.

However, the blade had no problem penetrating his eye and continuing straight into his brain. Thankfully, he didn't suffer long, just a couple seconds before he dropped to the ground, his body involuntarily twitching a few seconds longer before going still.

"And then there was one," Nick said as he slowly made his way towards Agent Richards who pulled out her pistol and started firing. Nick stumbled back a few feet as the bullets slammed into him. "You're out of luck, lady," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Renard's not the only one with a fancy healing factor."

"Hey," Jean said half-groggy as he pushed himself up slightly out of the hospital bed. "I know that voice."

On instinct, Richards turned and fired a couple rounds into Jean's chest again...a mistake that cost her her life as Nick suddenly appeared behind her and snapped her neck.

"Hello, Jean," Nick said, stepping back to let the dead Utopia agent drop to the ground. "How ya been?"

"Right now...I feel reaaaaaaally good," Jean said, swaying slightly before looking down. "Oh fuck...she shot me again."

"Yeah, she did, but thanks for the distraction."

"Don't mention it...um...why are you here?"

"Oh, to kill you."

"Ah, good luck with that," said Jean. "You tried that once already."

"True." Nick nodded in agreement as he reached into his scrubs and pulled out a tiny device. "Which is why I got myself one of these."

"That looks like one of my thermite tabs."

"It _**is**_ one of your thermite tabs," Nick replied. "I stopped by your pad before I 'ported here. I figure I'll burn you to a crisp, then run you through a wood chipper, that should kill you." He then stopped as he saw the thoughtful look on his fellow mercenary's face. "I gotta' admit, Jean, you seem to be taking this rather well."

"I think it's the drugs," Jean replied. "I feel too good to care right now."

"Ah, well, at least you got a good high out of it."

"And you'll make a nice shield," Jean said as his right arm suddenly broke free of its restraints and grabbed Nick, pulling him close just in time to get impaled by a short-spear.

Nick looked down at the piece of metal protruding from his chest, a look of bemusement on his face. "Oh...shit...Totentanz," he said as Jean dropped him, allowing him to land on his knees, the tiny thermite tab dropping harmlessly into Jean's waiting hand.

Jean looked up at the black clad elite with the golden skull helmet and smiled. "Oh goody," he chuckled, not sure if it was of his own accord if it was still the drugs. "My morning S&M session is about to begin."

"Time to die, Renard," rasped Kleisner. "I am a professional, but I will enjoy this."

Jean waited until the German mercenary lunged forward, then rolled aside as he crushed and tossed the tiny thermite tab he had palmed off Nick up in the air. As the elite's other spear impaled the bed, the thermite tab suddenly exploded, engulfing Kleisner in a ball of flame and throwing him backwards several feet before he slammed into a wall.

"Ow, that's gotta' hurt," said Nick, stumbling back to his feet and pulling the short-spear out of his body and then impaling Jean through the chest with it, pinning him to the hospital bed and causing the man to scream in pain. "And I bet that hurt too," he laughed wickedly. "Stick around, Jean, I'll be finishing you shortly, but first...let me deal with the annoying Aryan thug with an attitude problem."

"Fuck...you...Nick," Jean managed to choke out, more blood coming out of his chest. "Shit," he wheezed. "I...think...that...actually...hurt..."

"That's the idea," Nick said. He took a moment to study Jean, making sure he wasn't going anywhere for at least the next few minutes. He paused for a moment and sniffed the air for a moment. "Damn...smells like someone's been cooking bratwurst." Then he turned his attention to Kleisner who, despite being badly burned, was starting to get up. "Oh, goody, 'Tanzi! You're still kicking! I was kind of hoping you'd show up to take Jean down." Nick opened his hand and there was a brief flash of green light as an auto-pistol suddenly appeared. He pulled the trigger and several high-velocity shells ripped through Kleisner's legs. "Yeah, the pot on Jean is worth five or six million, but can you imagine how my resume' is going to look when they find out that I offed you as well?"

Kleisner didn't cry out as his legs out gave out from underneath him. Yes, he felt pain, but his anger at the arrogant upstart drowned that out. "That isn't going to happen," he said, his voice still ice cold.

"Wow." Nick didn't hide his amazement. "I gotta' admit, you're fucking impressive. I just turned your lower legs to hamburger and you still project that aura of intimidation and all-around bad-assery...I'm almost pissing myself." He then paused and sniffed his arm for a moment. "Oh...no, never mind, that's just from the urine cart that Utopian thug threw me into." He then pointed the pistol at Kleisner's head. "I know you have rapid healing abilities as well, but nowhere near Jean or myself, so I'm guessing a few high-velocity rounds through the brain isn't something you'll be recovering from."

BLAM!

Nick stumbled forward for a second, aware of new pain in his back and chest. "That's weird," he said glancing down at the pistol in his hand. "I don't remember firing this-"

BLAM!

Fire shot up his spine and he lost all feeling in his legs before he fell to the ground, dropping his own gun. He looked up and saw a man in his mid-twenties with light brown hair looking down at him. "Who the fuck are you?" he asked.

The response he got was the barrel of the pistol in his face.

BLAM!

And then...oblivion.

Jason Miller stepped over DeYorke's body and emptied the rest of his weapon's magazine into Totentanz. He knew that both men would eventually recover, but he and Renard would be long gone by then. He then walked over to where Renard was impaled.

"Renard," he said, lightly slapping the man on the side of the face. "I know you're not dead...say something."

"No," the other man groaned. "Don't wanna'."

Jason grabbed the now bloodstained short-spear by the handle. "Okay, this might hurt a little," he said before pulling the spear out of Jean's chest.

"FUUUUUCCCCCK!" Jean screamed before dropping to the ground. He coughed up blood for a few seconds as his chest wound started to seal up. "Dammit, that hurts."

"Good," Jason snapped. "That means you're still alive and your healing ability is still functioning."

Jean pulled himself up to his feet. "Damn straight," he snarled. "And now I'm going to beat the shit out of you until you tell me what's..." He stumbled forward a couple steps and then dropped to his knees. "Oh..fuck...not again. Legs...feet...work for me, Daddy needs to beat shit out of mysterious stranger."

Jason shook his head and helped the groggy man back to his feet. "Shit, they must have put a gallon of 'mox into you. C'mon...we gotta' move."

"Where we goin'?"

"Away from here," Jason said. "It's not safe."

"No kidding," Jean winced as his rescuer helped him down a corridor. "I fucking hate hospitals...and where are we going again?" Jean looked up just in time to see a sign on the door they were approaching. "Why are we going to the laundry are-"

He never finished his sentence. Instead, the last thing he saw was the butt of Jason's pistol slamming into his face. His last thought, however, was a very odd one.

 _Dammit, why do people keep hitting me in the face?_


	9. Two

**Disclaimer:** As usual, don't own Aberrant (WHite Wolf does, and doesn't want to anything with it anymore). Don't own Incredibles (and I'm really glad people from Pixar don't read this stuff, because they'd probably scream for my head on a pike).

 **Author's Notes:** Well, this little piece of Countdown was written as an afterthought, but then, after binging on a Bailey's Irish Cream Mocha smoothie, it became more than just a couple pages. Just so you know, this is where we take a dark turn in this series. What? You thought we did that already? HA! We haven't begun to darken! It was also a cheap way to tie up some loose ends and also mess with Aberrant and Incredibles canon (and yet still have it be recognizable). So, here we are.

* * *

" _Phillipa Lavielle, niece of recently slain Phillip Lavielle, Director of the Aeon Society, assumed her uncle's former duties as Director. Though some had cited her youth and lack of experience, the thirty year old Lavielle seems to have hit the ground running, proclaiming that her uncle had started a "new era" and she intended to follow his vision..."_

N!Channel News

* * *

 _ **Aeon Society Headquarters**_

 _ **Chicago, Illinois**_

Hideo Ozaki had run several mental scenarios since he and Thetis had received their invitation to Aeon headquarters in Chicago.

 _No, not an invitation, it was an order, a thinly veiled order._

He truly believed that eliminating Phillip Lavielle was necessary, especially since the man was very close to passing off some vital information to the NSA and its Directive allies. Though he didn't like the idea of appointing a figurehead, he had to admit that letting the man's niece assume directorship of Aeon was a way of giving the illusion of a smooth transition of power, at least as far as the general public was concerned.

It was a simple plan, allow the young lady to assume "leadership" of the Aeon Society, and then gently remind her who was truly calling the shots. And Phillipa seemed like the perfect candidate. Named after her uncle, her parents died in a plane accident when she was seven and she was taken in by Phillip who raised her as his own.

 _Not sure if "raised" is the proper term here. "Groomed" would be more appropriate._

Phillipa grew up in a unique environment, going to the best schools in the world, and actually getting a glimpse as to how the world really worked "behind the scenes".

 _I wonder what kind of effect that upbringing had on someone so young...to be exposed to the shadowy world we live in where we manipulate politicians, monarchs, and various world leaders on a daily basis._

He was certain that having lived with that kind of life, Phillipa would understand what was at stake and accept how things were done when he and Thetis showed up after her becoming the Director of Aeon to have a small talk with her. So it came as a surprise that, only minutes after she was sworn in, he and Thetis were notified that the new head of the Aeon Society "urgently requested" their presence.

So he and Thetis were on the next flight out of Utopia and on their way to Chicago, arriving in record time. Needless to say, he had a bad feeling about this. He and Thetis were planning on coming here, but on their own accord. The fact that they were _summoned_ hinted that something was amiss, but he managed to keep his concerns behind a calm and calculating mask of inscrutability.

As he and Thetis made their way through the halls of the Aeon Building to Lavielle's office, he could sense the tension coming from Thetis. Like him, she was able to hide it but, having known her for so long, he could tell that she was agitated. She was used to being the one calling the shots, setting the agenda, so having been ordered by some mere slip of a girl (at least by Thetis' standards) to report in person to the director obviously irritated her.

"Any word on Pine?" Thetis asked as they walked through the oddly silent corridors of the building.

"No," he replied. "He seems to have disappeared since the incident in San Francisco. From what little video footage we recovered from the area, it would appear that he took some serious damage at the hands of Tanya Mitchell and Renard."

To Ozaki's surprise, Thetis actually chuckled. "Renard," she said, shaking her head. "He is more of an annoyance than his father was, and yet, he has some of the strangest timing."

 _Or really bad luck,_ Ozaki thought. "Yes," he said in agreement. "Although I'm not sure if setting him up for the murder of the team in San Francisco was a good idea. When Blazestone recovers, I'm sure she'll have a different take on events."

"Yes, that would be unfortunate." Thetis paused to look at a picture on wall that showed the original founding members of the Aeon Society...an image from a much simpler and more innocent time. "Unless she doesn't wake up."

"Killing her is an option, but I wouldn't advise it, especially in light of Renard's escape."

"Yes." Venom now laced Thetis' voice. "His escape...I can't believe someone alerted those damn Elites of his presence at the hospital."

"I hear the pot on him is up to six million now." Ozaki frowned as he remembered something else. "Even Chiraben was tempted to break his current assignment and pick up what he called 'an easy payday'. But he was convinced to stay on his current job."

"Keeping him on the payroll may be beneficial at the moment, but that man is a rabid animal, Hideo." Most of the venom was gone now, taking a softer tone. "He is useful now, but he will turn on us."

"Eventually most of them do," Ozaki said. "Which is why we take steps to keep them in line. Flynn slipped beneath our radar thanks to interference from Dicker and the NSA eight years ago. His surfacing in Redfield a year ago was an accident."

Thetis suddenly turned and gave him a sharp look. "I thought we promised not to talk about what happened in Oklahoma," she said, the venom returning. "That was a disaster, and we should have been certain that there were no survivors."

"Even the staff involved?" Ozaki asked the question allowed, though he knew his superior already knew his opinion on the matter. If he had his way, he would have gotten rid of everyone directly involved on site.

"It's too late to enact a scorched earth policy now," Thetis said, giving Ozaki a sad smile. "We didn't know what the boy was truly capable of or why he even showed up in Oklahoma, but he's now a problem. Do you think there were other survivors of the Redfield incident?"

"I'm certain of it, given Flynn's ability. If any survivors made it out with him, I'm sure he would have wiped any digital trace of them." Ozaki paused as he thought of something else. "And given what we've seen of Flynn, I wouldn't be surprised if some of those survivors stayed with him."

They continued to walk down the corridor, turning a final corner that put them in one final hallway that had no other doors except the one at the other end. Along the walls were more pictures of Aeon's past, ranging from events of the early years to the signing of the Utopia charter only six years ago.

"What is the Blazestone's current status?" Thetis asked.

"Still in a coma, but as I said, I would advise against killing her."

"Who said anything about killing her? I just think it would be wise that she doesn't wake up for awhile. We may do terrible things to bring about a golden age, but we aren't monsters."

 _Some would vehemently disagree with you on that._ Ozaki almost said that aloud, but managed to keep that reeled in, because he knew that would open up other arguments. "Then I suppose keeping her on a mox/sedative cocktail while her body heals is the best course of action," he said. "But we will have to revive her eventually and learn what she knows."

"Of course, but as you said, she needs time to heal."

"And Renard?"

"Release a statement that he is a person of interest, but don't directly say he is the prime suspect, we'll let others think that." Thetis paused for a moment when they reached the doorway to the Aeon Director's office. "Insist that we want him alive for questioning...and that we will match what is currently 'in the pot'...but do not let Chiraben get involved."

"That would get most of the Elites on board," Ozaki said. "Though there are a few who still want him dead."

"Yes, well, Totentanz and Pursuer will have to fight through the others if they want their shot at Renard."

Ozaki nodded in understanding as he realized where Thetis was headed on this. "Yes, and there will, no doubt, be fatalities...getting rid of those who might pose a possible threat to us in the future."

Thetis smiled at him. "At least far as the Elites are concerned." Then her smile faded a little. "One obstacle dealt with, only hundreds of others to go."

They said nothing as Ozaki keyed the numeric pad next to the door, then placed his hand on the sensor-screen below it. A few seconds, later the door opened.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Thetis said as she and Ozaki entered the outer suite of Lavielle's office. There was a receptionist desk there, but it was unmanned. Several feet behind the receptionist desk was a double set of wood-panel doors. "No one here to greet us...very poor form."

Ozaki looked at the receptionist's desk and noticed that with the exception of a phone, there was no sign that it was being used by anyone. If he had to guess, it would be to assume that the receptionist who had previously occupied that desk during Phillip's tenure as Director no longer worked here and was probably assigned to another department.

 _And the fact that Phillipa has not filled that position by now says something about her,_

He mentally recalled what he knew about Phillipa...highly educated, fluent in seven foreign languages, served as a an ambassadorial aide at the UN, and later Project Utopia. An impressive resume, yes, but that was about all he could dig up on her, but he suspected there was more.

Before he could say something in response to Thetis' remark, the double doors opened and a young blond haired woman wearing blue jeans and cashmere sweater greeted them. "Oh, Director Thetis, Mr. Ozaki," she said almost airily, as if she were greeting a couple of friends on a shopping trip. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

 _What the hell is this?_ Ozaki was confused. This could not have been the woman the Aeon Council handed the directorship. _Yes, she was meant to be a figurehead, but I was hoping for someone with intelligence, not an air-headed bimbo._

A glance at Thetis told him that she was apparently thinking along similar lines, given the frown on her face as they entered the office. Plastic sheeting covered the floor and most of the furniture except for Lavielle's desk and two large leather chairs across from it, sitting a few feet away and maybe five feet apart from each other.

"Come in," Phillipa said, making her way around the desk before settling in her own chair behind it. She then gestured at the other two chairs. "Make yourselves comfortable and please forgive the mess, I've decided to do some renovation work since I've been sworn in."

 _Oh yes, definitely a bimbo._ Ozaki managed to keep his face a mask of indifference, though he did allow the hint of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. _At least she'll be easy to control._

"Director Lavielle," Thetis began, trying to put as much warmth in her voice as she could, though Ozaki could tell it was forced.

"Oh, please, call me Phillpa," the other woman giggled. "' _Director Lavielle'_ sounds so...so cold."

Thetis managed a false laugh. "Very well then," she said. "Phillipa...I'm sure you realize that there are important things to attend to and, while no disrespect is intended, I think-"

"You think that renovating this office is a trivial matter," Lavielle said, interrupting Thetis. "Yes, I know, but look at this place...it really needs it, the whole organization needs it, really, and that is why I summoned you...to talk about the future."

"Yes," Thetis said slowly, irritation starting to lace her words. "The future."

"Yes, the future." Lavielle laughed again, but, for a moment, Ozaki thought he saw something in her eyes, but perhaps he was mistaken. "After all, this place seems to be stuck with so much old dead weight from the past. Something must be done about that." She looked around the room for a moment, then suddenly snapped her fingers. "Evergreen! I'll have this room painted with evergreen color...give it that 'Pacific Northwest' feel."

Thetis rolled her eyes in irritation, but Ozaki remained still. This time, he was certain he saw something in Lavielle's eyes, and he suddenly had a sinking feeling that there was more to Phillipa's talks of redecorating than just redoing an office. He was about to say something when there was a knock on the door.

"Come on in," Phillipa called out.

The door opened and a tall man with thinning black hair entered the room. He wore an expensive Italian suit, the triangular Aeon pin worn by some high ranking members in the society glistened off his tie. Ozaki immediately recognized the man and his sinking feeling became one of actual dread.

"Director Thetis, Mr. Ozaki, you may not remember him, but this is Gerald Monroe, he was head of the _Spirit Walker_ project in Oklahoma until last year." There was a slight change in Lavielle's voice when she spoke. Ozaki wasn't sure if Thetis caught it, but the air-headed bimbo was starting to disappear. "Mr. Monroe, I assume you are acquainted with these two people?"

"Yes, Director Lavielle," Monroe replied, standing between the two chairs that Ozaki and Thetis occupied. "They are aware of involvement in the Redfield incident, but I was cleared of wrong doing."

"Yes," Thetis said. "The loss of life was regrettable, but his actions were warranted."

Ozaki studied Phillipa's actions. At Thetis' comment, the blond leaned back in her chair and stiffened for a moment. He glanced over at Thetis and caught a hint of a smirk on the older woman's face; apparently, Thetis was under the impression she had intimidated the younger woman into silence. But looking back at Phillipa, Ozaki could tell that was not the case.

"I see." The air-headed bimbo was gone, a cold and intelligent gleam was now in those blue eyes. Even the voice had changed slightly, taking an almost malevolent tone. Thetis might still view Lavielle as a young and clueless woman, but Ozaki recognized a predator when he saw one, especially when they were about to strike. "Let's take a look at this situation, shall we?"

Phillipa opened her desk drawer and pulled out a file folder, which she raised slightly as she opened it up to read the contents.

"Okay," she said. "Let's start with a small incident about a year ago when a group of people were randomly grabbed off the streets of Redfield to examine the effects of what being bombarded by low levels of quantum energy has on the local populace."

"That was within our operational parameters," Monroe said, obviously not happy and having to deal with this incident again.

"Yes, you were following orders, now please let me finish." Phillipa glared at him for a moment before she continued. "One of those people you grabbed was a seventeen year old nova identified as one David Flynn who happened to be passing through town. When his DNA was processed and ran through the system, it flagged our database because it revealed that he was related to one of our past associates...a certain Buddy Pine."

"And I was notified," Thetis said. "He followed procedure."

"Okay, I would appreciate it that you not interrupt me, Director Thetis. I will give you time to explain this mistake shortly."

"Mistake?" Thetis was clearly angry now.

"Director Thetis," Ozaki said softly, hoping Thetis got the warning. "Let her finish."

Thetis was about to say something, but stopped when she caught the slight shake of Ozaki's head. "Very well," she finally said. "My apologies, Director Lavielle...please continue."

"Thank you. Now, Mr. Monroe, you proceeded to interrogate Mr. Flynn, did you not?"

"Well, yes," Monroe said, a wary tone in his voice. "A nova showing up in the middle of our classified experiment? I'm not one to take chances."

"Yes, I can see that." Phillipa flipped though a couple pages of the file. "I particularly like how it described you torturing the boy to get your information-"

"He was a threat!"

"Okay, remember what I said about being interrupted, I really don't like that. Now, you say he was a threat, I say that's where you screwed up. He wasn't really a threat...a potential threat, yes, but he didn't become a threat until you dragged him into the that unshielded interrogation room that happened to be located next to the facility mainframe which had a direct network link to Aeon's database."

Color drained from Monroe's face as he realized the implications of this accusation.

"In other words, Mr. Monroe," Phillipa continued. "You took a cyber-psychic and let him get a look at what we were doing. Yes, you were torturing him for information, but I'm sure he didn't mind since he was mentally downloading everything he could during that little session."

"I-I didn't realize that," Monroe stammered.

"Thankfully, your repeated use of electrical shock treatment via water and car battery did eventually mess up his concentration and alerted us, forcing us to do a network lock-down and severing all connections, but the damage was done. He had gotten a large portion of our database and was mentally linked to the facility you held him in. It allowed him to access the base's security system which he used to incapacitate the staff and make his escape."

"He had help," Monroe snarled, not bothering to hide his hostility. "One of them damn redskins was a nova and managed to infiltrate the base."

Phillipa arched an eyebrow. "Redskin," she repeated. "You know, I could have you fired for your blatant racist comment, but that's the least of your crimes."

"These aren't crimes."

"Okay, maybe not by legal definition, but violating secrecy and risking public exposure is a crime to the Society, an unforgivable one."

"Which I prevented by ordering the self-destruct of the facility."

"Effectively wiping out the town of Redfield which was conveniently written off as a tragedy when an experimental solar powered generator station blew...at least that's what the world believes." Phillipa shook her head. "The sad part is that killing those six thousand people to cover our tracks was probably the only smart thing you did in that situation, but it didn't help much, did it?"

"You can't lay that on me, I did what I was author-"

BLAM!

The bullet hit Monroe in the center of the forehead, the initial impact snapping his head back before the back of his head exploded, splattering a bloody red mist across the floor as his body fell to the ground.

Thetis and Ozaki looked back at Phillipa and saw the smoking hole in the file folder before Phillpa tossed the folder aside to reveal the Colt .45 authomatic she held in her hand. "Well," she said after spending a couple seconds looking at the dead body. "That was strange." She then looked at Thetis. "I just realized that, until this moment, I never really killed someone up close and personal like this. I mean, I've ordered people killed before and I even rigged and detonated some explosives that killed a bunch of people...but I never really did it directly." She studied the .45 in her hand for a moment, waving it around. "Kind of a powerful and liberating feeling actually."

Ozaki inwardly sighed with relief as Phillipa put the gun back in her desk drawer.

"Now then," Phillipa said, looking directly at Thetis. "Let's get down to business. You people at Project Proteus have been really busy lately."

"If this is an attempt to threaten us," Thetis said, "you will find that killing either of us won't work."

Phillipa gasped in shock. "What? Is that what you think this meeting is all about?"

"Then what is is about?" Ozaki asked.

Phillipa smiled at him. "Ah, Hideo Ozaki, the mysterious one...not many people know your name. I'm glad you've finally decided to speak to me directly." She tilted her head to one side and Ozaki was reminded of a cobra preparing to strike at its target. "Does this mean you are through analyzing me, trying to figure me out?"

"I understand that we see only what you allow us to see."

"Do me a favor, Ozaki, spare me the the whole 'Asian Zen' thing, if I need that, I'll watch a rerun of 'Kung-Fu'." Then she smiled again. "Actually, I want to commend you on your attempt to deal with the David Flynn problem. Unfortunately, Lansing's suggestion of letting Flynn's father loose on the world wasn't a good idea. On the other hand, he did reduce the world's population by a million people and he gives us something to use later on."

Now Thetis was intrigued. "What, exactly, do you mean by that?'

"Isn't it obvious, Director Thetis. Buddy Pine will eventually resurface, and I have no doubt that he will kill many more people, most of them novas." Phillipa got up out of her chair and slowly walked around to the front of her desk. "Having Buddy Pine out there will certainly rattle the nova community, some will flock to us, and others might decide to join the Teragen. While we will probably sustain losses, I dare say that our resources are far more vast than the Teragen. Let Pine have his fun and kill the occasional nova, but if we were to...say...give him a trail to follow that led to Raoul Orzaiz' doorstep, I'd say it's worth having him out there. At the same time, he gives us something we can rally the people of the world against."

"A risky, but interesting endeavor," Ozaki said. "But what about David Flynn?"

"Yes, David Flynn. Trust me on this, Ozaki; if the psychological evaluations on Pine are accurate, he will target his son. You see, Buddy Pine is arrogant, egotistical, an all around narcissist...he will hate the fact that some glorified test-tube baby is enjoying the life he could have had. David Flynn is young, powerful, and, though I know we hate to admit it, popular. Things that Buddy Pine wasn't when he ran Pine Industries. His attempts at false super-heroics fell flat as well. But his son has pretty much surpassed him. As for why I summoned you two here, it is to inform you that I want you to continue going about what you've been doing."

"What's the catch?" Thetis asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"No catch," Phillipa replied, "although I might need you to do the occasional 'off-the-books' operation, but you're obviously no strangers to that."

"You can't be serious."

"Oh, but I am, Thetis." Phillipa chuckled softly, a pleasant sound, but a little discomforting. "You see, I am very aware that I only occupy this position because you had my boyfriend put a bullet in my uncle's head."

Thetis' eyes widened in shock. "You know?"

Phillipa scoffed at the older woman. "Of course I know. C'mon, uncle Phil was getting old and set in his ways. He was about to break rank and spill his guts to the NSA, he had to be put down."

Even Ozaki couldn't hide his surprise. Not only did Phillipa know who assassinated her uncle, but she approved! This was not what he had expected.

 _Phillipa played us all for fools, she was playing a role and we fell for it. She is far more dangerous to us than I thought._

"Well," he said, hoping he kept his voice devoid of any emotion. "So does this mean business as usual?"

"Pretty much...oh!" Phillipa suddenly snapped her fingers again. "I just remembered, there is one loose end we need to clear up." She picked up a small ice chest off the ground that was sitting next to her desk. "Here," she said, opening the ice chest and dumping it's content on the floor.

Thetis gasped as she realized that Phillipa dumped a human head on the floor. Ozaki studied the head for a moment then looked back at Phillipa. "Lansing," he said.

"Yes," Phillipa laughed. "Lansing. I understand that mounting up a manhunt for him would deplete Proteus' resources, so I decided to have someone else take care of it. If it makes you feel better, he suffered quite a bit before his head was ripped off his body."

She then stepped over Monroe's body and started to make her way towards the door. "Well," she said, pausing to pull up some of the plastic and drape it over the corpse. "I guess that takes care of the renovation part. I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted and I feel the need to go to a spa and relax in a hot tub. Do me a favor and get rid of Monroe and Lansing, will you? After all, if Proteus is good at anything, it's covering up and making things disappear."

She opened the doors to her office, then stopped and turned around, snapping her fingers on more time as she remembered something. "Oh, and yes, before I forget," she said. Though the tone was light and happy, there was a coldness in her eyes that made even Thetis flinch. "Should either of you try to have me killed, you will fail and while I can't figure out what I'll do with you, Director Thetis, you can rest assured that Ozaki will find himself in Bahrain and being vivisected alive." Then, as frighteningly as she had disappeared, the "air-headed" bimbo persona was back. "Well, that was fun...have a nice day."

Then she sauntered out of the room, pulling our her cell-phone to make arrangements for an appointment at a local spa, leaving two concerned Proteus members, a corpse, and a frozen head, not even bothering to look back as the doors closed behind her.

Back in the office, Thetis looked down at Monroe's corpse and Lansing's severed head before looking up to Ozaki.

"This is not good."


	10. One

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Incredibles or Aberrant, Disney/Pixar own one and I'm sure White Wolf would sell me the other if I put up the cash (which I don't have).

 **Author's Notes:** Just want to thank everyone who's stuck around and read this crazy thing. I also want to thank the Plothook crew for letting me swipe and tweak some characters. Pixfan, if you're reading this...Damon has finally shown up!

* * *

" _Syndrome Software & Technology...or SST as most people call it. For crying out loud, people, it's just Pine Industries reborn with a new name and look. It's run by the son of a psychotic asshole who designed weapons and killed several supers over a decade ago, just so he could play hero for himself. And now, this alleged bastard son comes out of nowhere, supposedly builds this new company on the ashes of his father's, and expects us to believe the shit he's selling about simply being a businessman. He's an obstructionist who was conveniently created by the NSA as a proxy to stand against Project Utopia and their altruistic goals."_

" _Personally, I doubt he actually is the son of Buddy Pine, but hey, if he is...I think we should hunt down the whore who gave birth to the little shit and hang her for not having the smarts to get an abortion."_

-The Brandi Miller Show, Air America Radio

* * *

 _ **Metroville, California**_

 _ **Syndrome Software & Technology**_

Jake Peters wasn't sure what to make of the newly renovated building. He spent several minutes straddling his motorcycle and studying the building. Before that, he had swung by his apartment and printed off a resume'. He had debated going to an Internet cafe and e-mailing it, but decided against it. He got the impression his mysterious employer wanted him to get to SST as soon as possible.

So here he was, checking out what had once been a middle school. He noticed that the large glassed-in atrium that made up the main entrance of the building was constructed of polarized photo-reactive glass. Though he was no expert at assessing the cost, he knew that kind of work alone was at least a couple million dollars.

 _Oh, for crying out loud...it's a junior high school! What the hell am I doing here, anyway? A thirty-three year old man looking to work at a dot-com company in a post dot-com era that is run by a bunch of kids almost half my age._

Then he saw it. He normally wouldn't have caught it, but force of habit (and experience from his past) had him checking out the windows and the gutters where he saw several strategically placed mini-cameras. He then turned and checked the various light posts in the parking lot and even some along the street that led to the SST parking lot. Sure enough, he could make out the tiny devices.

 _Damn, he must have at least a couple hundred of those out here, and those are the obvious ones._

His respect for David Flynn went up a notch for a moment before dropping back down when he realized that there were no security personnel near the entrance. He thought that was odd, especially after the incident that happened with Utopia.

 _But that is why you are here...to be hired as security. But I was under the impression there would be other personnel here already. All I see is some native guy in maintenance coveralls cleaning windows._

He dismounted his motorcycle and made his way towards the entrance, then stopped as he saw a petite young woman with dirty-blond hair get out of a pick-up truck, pausing to grab...was that a hundred pound bag of coffee she just draped over her shoulder?

"Hey, Null, can you get the door?" the woman asked as she draped another bag of coffee over her other shoulder and then kicked the tailgate of her pick-up shut with ease.

"Sure thing, Ash," replied the maintenance man, who stopped what he was doing to open the door. As he opened the door, Jake noticed how the man took an almost unconscious look around the parking lot, but his gaze did linger for a second on Jake before he went back to cleaning the glass doors. An innocent looking act, but Jake was sure that the maintenance man, if he really was one, was watching him via a reflection on the polarized glass.

 _Okay..maybe they're not as lax as I thought._

His suspicions were confirmed when he reached the front door and the maintenance man dropped his window squeegee which landed in front of Jake's feet.

"Oh, sorry about that," said the man.

 _Somehow I doubt that,_ Jake thought. He studied the man the young woman had called Null. Despite his youth, the kid moved like a combat veteran.

 _But that's not possible, he's too young to have served in military...at least not long enough to act that way. And the way he's packing that piece in that hidden shoulder holster, he's too accustomed to it. Maybe he has some sort of gang affiliation, but that wouldn't fit the kind of profile for people Flynn would hire on._

"No problem," he said giving the younger man an easy grin as he pulled a folder out of his coat. "I'm here to drop off a resume' for the security opening you have here."

"Among other things," the other man chuckled. "Sorry, didn't mean to say that out loud."

 _That's bullshit and you know it, kid._ Jake smiled back at him. Despite the danger the young man presented, he actually found himself liking this kid. "I take it there are other openings."

"Yeah, you might as well head on in and join the rest of the pool."

"The pool?"

"Yeah, we got a few programmers, one engineer, and...well, not sure what Miss Graves does, but she got a call-back. You're probably the first applicant we got for the security post." The man paused and studied Jake for a moment, it was now obvious that he was checking Jake out and sizing him up. After another moment, he extended his hand. "I'm Null, by the way."

"Jake Peters." Jake shook the other man's hand, but he knew that how he reacted would determine how they treated him and if he got the job. _It actually makes sense, this Null is probably one of the security detail, but he doesn't openly act like it. It allows him to freely move about without people paying too much attention to him._ "So tell me, Null, what exactly is your title around here?"

"Well, it depends," Null said. He then pulled a small piece of fabric with a Velcro back out of a pocket and put it above the front left pocket on his coveralls. "According to this," he said pointing to the small patch with the SST logo in the background, "I'm maintenance."

"Among other things?" Jake asked innocently.

Null laughed, but Jake could see the cautious look in the man's eyes. "Something like that." He opened the door and gestured for Jake to enter. "So tell me, Mr. Peters, what made you want to take a job that involves babysitting a bunch of mostly super-powered mega-geniuses?" he asked as he followed Jake inside the building.

"Well, I've been working several years as a contract body guard for various celebrities and the occasional politician...holy shit..." Jake stopped dead in his tracks when he got a look at the building's interior.

Outside, it still mostly resembled the school building, but standing here in the atrium of the building, it was hard to tell that it wasn't an office building of some sort. From the carpet all the way up to the ceiling fixtures, everything here pretty much said, "We have much more money than you, but we're not flaunting it, just letting you know."

"Impressive, isn't it?" Null asked as he walked by him.

Jake nodded, but didn't say anything. Already, he was spotting several carefully hidden surveillance cameras and other security measures. _Just how much money does this Flynn have?_

Null gestured to the desk in front. "Receptionist's desk," he said, before motioning past it and around a corner...to reveal as close as one could to having a Starbucks short of buying into the franchise. "Employee lounge and coffee shop. We stock everything purely based on employee request, so if enough people want us to start stocking turkey sandwiches, then that gets added. David's got one or two more spots to fill in there, so staffing isn't a problem." He pointed down the hallway past the coffee shop. "Restrooms and reinforced workshops. Explosions are normal, screaming isn't, unless Zoe lit someone on fire again, in which case just be ready with an extinguisher and some burn ointment." He then pointed the other way. "More of the same plus storerooms, same deal."

"Whoa, wait, hold up, who's Zoe, and why would she set someone on fire?" Jake asked, then he smiled. "Oh, I get it, a joke, right?"

Null wasn't smiling. "Trust me, when you meet Zoe, you'll understand...though we haven't seen her for a few weeks since the incident with the Utopia team."

"Yeah," rumbled a voice from behind them. "It's been nice and quiet...but boring."

Jake turned around and almost did a double-take at what he saw. A ten foot tall rocky monstrosity wearing goggles and an over-sized white lab coat stood there. "Damn...you one of the other security guards?"

The rock-monster looked at him for a moment and shook his head. "Me? No way, man. I suck at combat."

Null cleared his throat before he made the introduction. "Larry, this is Jake Peters, he's applying for one of the security spots. Jake, meet Larry Kramer, one of our lab guys. He finished up his degree in Physics in UCLA and is working the laser lab."

"Laser lab?" Jake couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What kind of business is this, exactly?"

"Oh, a little bit of this, a little bit of that," Larry said as he and Jake shook hands. "Video games, electronics, and other stuff." He paused for a moment and glanced in Null's direction. "He's got clearance?"

"Not yet," Null said. "He's here for an interview."

"Ah." Larry shrugged and turned back to Jake. "I'd tell you more, but that's all I can say for the moment."

"Okay." Now Jake was curious...what the hell was he getting into? "One thing, though, I noticed you're a little darker in some areas, like you've been burned recently."

Jake saw Null tense a little at that question, but Larry just laughed.

"Yeah, had a problem with someone."

"Let me guess, Zoe set you on fire?"

"Zoe? Hell no, she's cool." Then Larry paused for a moment. "Though she did set Shiro on fire, but that was an accident...I think."

"Then what happened?"

"Firewing."

"Firewing?" Jake's eyes widened as he realized who Larry was talking about. "The Firewing from project Utopia?"

"Yep."

"Ouch, I'm guessing that's like a burn on human skin."

"Pretty much, though I should be healing up pretty soon." Larry then looked over at the cafe. "Well, it's been fun, but I've gotta' grab my coffee and get back to work."

Jake watched the rock monster walk away, shaking his head in disbelief. "That's one of your lab guys?"

"Yep, graduated from college at twenty and almost took a job with NASA," Null said. "But he didn't like the idea of Utopia watchdogs looking over his shoulder. You should see him when he's not in his rock form...scrawny little kid."

"So he takes the rock form to look intimidating?"

"Nope, he's using it because the burns don't hurt as bad when he heals. He's a scarred mess right now and can barely move in his human form. Hell, if he was powered down, he'd probably be loaded up on painkillers and sedatives."

Jake winced at that thought. "So he's going to stay this way until he heals up?"

"The docs say it will be a couple more weeks. He's still in pain though, just not as much." Then Null smiled. "Although, at the moment, pain is not really bothering him, especially with that kind of distraction."

Jake followed Null's gaze and saw Larry standing in front of the cafe counter, watching the blond haired girl as she fixed his drink. "I take it he's sweet on her."

"Yep." Null shook his head. "The sad part is, Larry has no problem facing off against bullies or getting in a fight, but when it comes to girls...well, he's still inept. The price of being a mega-geek, I guess."

"Isn't everyone here a mega-geek?"

"Not exactly," Null said. He then led Jake to corner of the atrium that had several comfortable chairs arranged in a semi-circle in front of a flat-screen television sitting on a wall. "Now, just sit here, kick back, and relax here with the others. If you want anything, you know where the cafe is, and don't worry about paying, it's on the house until you get hired. Anyway, I need to get back to my janitorial stuff."

"Wait, hold up a second." Jake's curiosity was really starting to get the better of him. "Seriously, what is it that you really do around here?"

"Honestly?" Null gave him a big grin. "I'm really not sure what my job title is." Then he turned and walked away, humming away to some song as he headed towards an elevator.

Jake shook his head as he sat down in one of the chairs.

 _Damn, this is just too weird._

There were three others sitting there. A tall dark-haired woman in her mid-twenties wearing a business suit was reading something on the text screen of her cell-phone. Next to her sat a black man in his early twenties, his hair tightly braided in cornrows and tied back in a ponytail, reading the latest copy of Popular Mechanics. A few seats down, another young woman with brown hair was using a remote to flip through the various channels on the television. He took a seat somewhere between the younger woman and the other black man. "Hey," he said in greeting.

"Hello," said the woman reading her cell-phone, barely giving Jake a glance. "Sorry for being rude, but my cousin is about to make a stupid mistake and I'm trying to prevent that before he closes the deal." She tapped a few more keys and then closed the phone. "Okay, that's all the help I'm giving him, if he can't take care of it from there, then my father will can his ass." She extended her hand to Jake. "Camille Blevins."

"Jake Peters," he said, shaking her hand. "I'm here for security. You?"

"Programming and Marketing. So, out of curiosity, did Flynn e-mail you too?"

"Nope, found out through other sources." He gave her one of his more friendly smiles. "Was told they needed trained security personnel and I figured a large menacing black man with security experience would probably fit the bill."

"Isn't that kind of stereotyping?" asked the girl flipping through the channels, Jake figured her to be in her late teens, maybe twenty.

"Nah," said the young black man who looked up from his magazine. "He doesn't have that shaved-head/Morpheus look going for him." He then gave Jake a mock salute before leaning forward to shake his hand. "Damon Best."

"So, I take it you got e-mailed by the mysterious Mr. Flynn?"

Damon shook his head. "Actually, no, a friend of mine works here and she invited me to check it out."

"So what do you do exactly?" Jake asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Not at all," replied Damon as he set the magazine down. "I was an engineering student at Cal-Tech until about a year ago. Got involved with a job that actually paid me much more than any job I could land after graduation."

"What kind of job?"

"Underwater salvage and construction."

"Stuff like shipwrecks, oil-rigs, and other stuff like that?"

"Yeah, though it took me awhile to get this to work underwater." Damon raised a finger and a concentrated short jet of blue flame erupted from it. "I got it down to where I can go at least three hours before I have to surface and 'recharge'. Spares me the trouble of having to carry that extra gear."

"I'll say." Jake then turned his attention to the girl still flipping through channels. "So what's your story?"

"Not much of one," the girl replied. "I'm just a working college student who answered an ad. I'm Suzzanah, by the way, Suzzanah Graves."

"Not to put a damper on things," Camille said, leaning forward in her chair and lowering her voice so only Jake and the others could hear her, "but isn't anyone curious at the fact that the company we're applying to is run by a kid right out of high-school."

"Yeah," said a new voice that...came from above them?

All four of them looked up to see scaly reptilian creature with wings hanging upside down from one of the overhead light fixtures and tapping away on a palm-pilot. It looked like a cross between an iguana and a gargoyle wearing blue jeans and a black t-shirt with slits in the back for his tail and wings.

"It is kind of creepy, a kid who who is only a couple years younger than I am is heir to a vast fortune, a mega-genius, and is on Utopia's hit list being my boss. Really scary shit." Then the creature uncurled his tail and his clawed toes from the light, flipping in mid-air before landing in front of them. He gave them a smile, his white teeth gleaming. "Until you get the paycheck. Kind of hard to hate a boss who starts you out at sixty-grand a year."

"Does that mean you get paid to eavesdrop on us?" Camille asked, annoyed at the fact she hadn't noticed the creature.

"Nah, I tend to hang out here when I need to think and get away from squinting at the monitor in my office." The creature gave her a grin and extended his hand to her which she hesitantly took, not out of fear, but to avoid getting her hand cut by his talons. "I'm Shiro Murikami, by the way...but everyone calls me 'Grymlyn'."

"That's kind of a derogatory term," Suzzanah said.

"Not really, they were calling me that before I erupted."

"Really, why?" asked Damon Best.

"It's the name of my character from World of Warcraft."

That got a laugh from everyone, even Jake, who realized something else. "Wait," he said. "Are you the 'Shiro' who got lit on fire by Zoe."

At the mention of Zoe's name, Shiro suddenly shuddered and nervously looked around. "Where is she?"

"Whoa, calm down, she's not here." Jake couldn't suppress his smile. "And what's the deal anyway? I was talking to the rock-guy and he said she was cool."

"Cool?" hissed Shiro before shuddering in terror again. "She needs to be locked up, she's a menace," he cried out. "She may look sweet and innocent, but she is chaos unleashed!" He suddenly lunged forward, his hands grabbing Jake by the front of his jacket and sounding even more frantic. "Chaos, I tell you, pure chaos and destruction unleashed!"

"Okay, that's enough, Shiro," Null said, misting into existence and gently putting a hand on Shiro's shoulder. In his other hand, he held a brown prescription bottle. "I think it's time you took some more of your meds, doctor's orders."

Shiro released his grip on Jake's jacket. "S-sorry," he stammered. "It's just...Zoe...she's...she's..."

"Yes, yes, she's chaos unleashed," Null said, gently leading the creature away from the group and handing him the brown bottle. "Here's your medicine...head over to the cafe and Ash will fix you up with something to wash them down with, alright?"

"Yes, yes...of course...meds...and coffee," Shiro said, mostly to himself as he started to make his way towards the cafe. "Meds...coffee...beware the Zoe...the Zoe...the Pink Streak of dooooooom."

Null shook his head and smiled at the others. "Don't worry about him," he assured them. "He's really a level-headed guy, just don't mention Zoe around him...he's still trying to recover from that."

It was Damon who spoke up first. "Okay, first off, who, or what, is Zoe?"

"And why did she set him on fire?" Jake added.

"Oh, it's nothing really," Null said, rolling his eyes. "Shiro likes to play practical jokes sometimes and thought it would be cool to steal Zoe's mocha smoothie and play 'Keep Away' with it." He sadly shook his head. "He forgot about that one rule David insisted we all follow: Do not get between Zoe and her caffeine, especially if she happens to be carrying an experimental ionized plasma-launcher."

"I don't think I like where this is headed," Camille said, "if an ionized plasma-launcher is exactly what it sounds like it might be."

"Yep, and Zoe chased after him, firing as she went...it was her first mocha of the day, and she's usually cranky." Null smiled at them again clasped his hands together. "Anyway, I just want to inform you that David will be talking to you shortly. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need go mop an office or something."

He waved at them and "misted" away again.

"I can't believe we're being shown around by a janitor," Suzzanah said as she went back to surfing the channels.

"I don't believe he's actually a janitor," said Camille. She then looked over in the direction of the cafe. "Just like I don't believe the lady working the espresso stand is just a wage-slave."

"Caught that too, didn't you?" Jake asked her. "Was that before or after she had those hundred pound bags of coffee beans draped over her shoulders?"

"Actually, it was when she lifted the entire espresso machine with one hand to clean under it that made me suspicious."

"Do you think everyone here's a nova?" Suzzanah asked, finally giving up and tossing the remote aside into an empty chair. "Because I don't think I've seen anyone that's normal."

"Seems that way, doesn't it," Damon offered, looking out at the main lobby entrance and then getting up out of his chair. "Maybe we should ask someone who would know."

"Where are you going?"

Damon ignored Suzzanah's question. Jake watched as the younger man walked towards the entrance.

"Hey, Vi!"

* * *

Violet Parr had seen many strange things in her young life. By the age of twenty-one, she had faced off against various criminal master-minds, crazed megalomaniacs, and countless legions of low and non-powered criminals since the "ban" on supers had been lifted. Then again, after the destruction of the Galatea Space Station, and the "eruptions" of super-powered novas around the world, it was obvious that such a "ban" would be impossible to enforce. In the last eight years, she had seen all sorts of things...some strange, some horrifying, and some just outright weird.

But nothing could prepare her for the two strange things she was about to witness at Syndrome Software and Technology. Although, it could also be argued that the word "strange" was relative when it came to her job at SST. As she entered the lobby of the main building that Thursday morning, she waved at the ten foot tall rock creature wearing goggles and a white lab-coat while carrying an over-sized clip board.

"Hi, Larry," she greeted the monster as she walked by him. "How are the burns?"

"Almost healed up," Larry Kazinski replied. "Staying in 'rock-mode' until they're gone. They look a lot worse when I'm normal."

"I'll bet," Violet said with a sympathetic wince.

"On the other hand," Larry said, his stone face breaking into a toothy grin, "I might risk shifting back if I can get a little scarring out of it."

"Why?"

"Because some chicks dig scars," Larry chuckled as he gestured at the cute auburn-haired girl working the espresso stand located near the elevator.

Violet laughed and shook her head. "Larry...just ask her out already...jeez."

The rock-like creature frowned. "Can't do that...she doesn't do geeks...but one can dream, right?"

Before Violet could say something, Larry walked off and fell into conversation with Shiro Murakami, one of the lead programmers from SST's game division. She shook her head again, suppressing a giggle as she walked up to the espresso stand where the object of Larry's affection worked.

"Hey, Ash...when you're done with that, I'll take a peppermint mocha."

The young woman behind the espresso stand carefully placed the one hundred pound bag of coffee beans that was draped over her shoulder on the ground and smiled. "Sure thing, Vi."

At five-foot nine and drop-dead gorgeous, Ashley Winthrop probably dominated the dreams of most of the self-confessed "geeks" that worked at SST. Those who watched the XWF (a "pro-wrestling" promotion that consisted of novas) would have recognized her as the nova wrestler called Boom-Box. The skimpy outfit she wore earned her a lot of fans and she would have made a lot of money in that profession if it weren't for two things...she hated the job and her manager, through unscrupulous manipulation, took seventy-five percent of her earnings. Though she was a powerful nova, Ashley, by her own admission, wasn't the brightest bulb in the box and was pretty much treated like a useful tool or a piece of convenient eye-candy to be exploited. There were times, she had once told Violet, that she would break down and cry in the locker-room at a show and had to get a pep-talk from her manager just to convince her to go out and perform. She hadn't asked for that kind of lifestyle and would have been happy to just be a baseline and working back at her old job at Godiva's Boutique in the mall.

All that changed when David hired her to work the espresso stand and Violet wasn't sure why David even hired Ashley in the first place because she didn't seem like the kind of person who would be "SST material". The only things Ashley had going for her were that she knew how to make espresso related drinks and she had retail experience. On the other hand, Ashley's ability to pick up a truck and toss it half-way across town also came in handy. When Violet asked David why he hired "Boom Box", he simply replied: "Because she didn't deserve what was happening to her and I happened to be there."

David then proceeded to tell Violet about Ashley's background and Violet couldn't help feeling a little sorry for the girl.

" _ **She's damaged goods, Vi," David had told her. "She was just some hot chick who worked at some store in the mall, got powers, and people exploited her. She lost her 'normal' life and no one asked her what she wanted."**_

 _ **When Violet asked David how Ashley's manager took it, he merely gave her an evil grin. "He had other problems...one of them being that he no longer existed."**_

" _ **You didn't kill him, did you?" Violet asked him, concerned that David might have done something to follow in his biological father's footsteps.**_

" _ **Sort of," David chuckled. "But he was still alive and breathing...he just...ceased to exist."**_

 _ **Realization hit Violet all of a sudden. "You didn't!"**_

" _ **Yep...erased...like he was never there. Birth records, social-security, bank accounts...gone. Though the thirty million he swiped from Ashley somehow ended up in a Swiss bank account that she has access to should she ever go there."**_

" _ **But why do that?"**_

" _ **Like I said, Vi, Ash was damaged goods and she was being bullied." A malicious tone worked its way into David's voice. "And you know how much I hate bullies."**_

Violet shuddered slightly at that memory. Yes...she knew how much David hated bullies, so she couldn't help wondering why he didn't do anything about Dash.

"Earth to Violet!"

Violet blinked as Ashley waved a hand in front of her face. "What?" Then she saw her drink sitting on the counter in front of her. "Oh! How much do I owe you?"

"The usual three fifty-nine," Ashley said as she rang up Violet's order. "You seem a little distracted."

"Sorry," Violet said as she put a five dollar bill on the counter, "long night last night."

"Yeah, I'll say...it wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the bossman walking around with a black eye and swollen jaw this morning, would it?"

"He's mobile?"

"Define 'mobile'." A smirk tugged at the corner of Ashley's mouth. "If it means half-staggering like Jack Sparrow from 'Pirates of the Caribbean' and holding a conversation with a potted plant...then yeah, he's mobile."

"Oh no...where is he?"

"In his office...I'm thinking he took one of Nigel's painkiller concoctions again...because he was singing 'Learning to Fly' by Pink Floyd." Ashley put another drink on the counter next to Violet's mocha. "Give him this, it should level him out...I hope."

"What is it? Some experimental flavoring?"

"Nope...simple dark roast Costa Rican blend. I don't think he can handle anything else."

Violet thanked Ashley and started to make her way towards the elevator, pausing to take a sip of her peppermint mocha.

"Hey, Vi!"

Violet turned and saw the young black man approaching her. She smiled as she recognized him. "Damon!" She walked over and gave him a hug, or at least a semi-hug with a coffee in each hand. "You actually took me up on the offer?"

Damon Best shrugged, giving her his trademark lopsided grin. "Yeah, well, I get an e-mail from an old friend, offering me a job working for the son of her family's worst enemy...it got my attention."

"I'm surprised Penny let you go."

"She was concerned as well, Vi," Damon said. His smile faded slightly. "She and your mother may not be on good terms, but she still cares about you. She is your godmother after all."

"And you aren't concerned about me?"

"Always have been." His smile returned. "But I also know you're not stupid. So what's Syndrome Junior like?"

"Please don't call him that," Violet said, momentarily surprised that she was suddenly defending David. "I'm still trying to figure him out." She paused for a moment, looking at him and then the others sitting in the lounge area. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Not really, maybe an hour, though Jake just got here."

"Who's Jake?"

Damon pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, not even bothering to look back. "Jake Peters, he's the big scary black guy who's currently reading our body language and looking for any other security measures you might have in the area."

The big black man standing several feet away shook his head and chuckled.

"I take it you're here for one of the security spots," Violet said.

The man identified at Jake Peters nodded. "Yeah, I didn't have a chance to e-mail my resume'. I figured I'd drop off a hard-copy, but was told to stick around."

Violet hesitated for a moment. Though she and David had talked about hiring security personnel, she was a little wary of "unknowns" showing up, especially with the possibility of Utopia trying to infiltrate the company.

 _Not to mention the fact that David hasn't been able to do a background check since Dash beat the shit out of him._

"Yo, Vi...you with us?"

Violet blinked as Damon's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Sorry, really crazy day ahead of me."

"I'll say," Damon chuckled as he looked at one of the coffee cups Violet was carrying. "What's with the two-fisted drinking of caffeine?"

"Actually, one of those is Syndrome Juni-er, I mean David's drink." Violet nervously laughed at the little slip of the tongue. "Look, I'd love to catch up, but I better get this to him before he talks to any of you."

"What, is he some sort of asshole taskmaster without his morning coffee?"

 _Not exactly._ Though she was still a little suspicious of David, she didn't think consider David to be "asshole" material. Null, on the other hand...

"Actually," she finally said, "he's more like a zombie...though I heard he was talking to a potted plant earlier today." She continued towards the elevator, but looked back over her shoulder. "I'll catch up with you in a few, okay?"

Jake managed to stifle a chuckle at Damon who was still watching young woman scurry toward the elevator. He was also amused at Damon's crack about him studying their body language because that's exactly what he was doing. And from the way the two acted around each other, it was all too obvious there was some history there.

"So," he said as Damon walked back to him. "Ex-girlfriend?"

"Something like that," Damon replied. "And no, it wasn't an ugly break-up," he hastily added as he noticed Camille and Suzzanah looking at him with interest. "It's just that our families ran in the same circles, but there were complications and we decided it was better to stay friends. Well, that, and I didn't want her father tossing me out a window."

"Ah, overprotective father." Jake nodded in understanding. "But still, you look like you're in good shape, you obviously work out, I think you could take on some angry old man."

"Not if the angry old man in question throws you through the window and you don't land until you've traveled a couple city blocks."

"You're joking right?"

Damon didn't smile back.

"You're not joking, are you."

Damon shook his head.

"Damn, her father's a super too?"

"Yep."

Jake shook his head in disbelief. And again, for what had to be reaching the hundredth time that day, he asked himself that same repeating question: _What the hell did I walk into?_

* * *

Violet took the elevator to the second floor, taking another sip of her peppermint mocha as she waited for the doors to open. It was kind of awkward seeing Damon again after a year, but she was actually glad he accepted her invitation.

 _I just hope we can actually work together without personal complications...shit, who am I kidding? This could easily turn into a disaster._

The doors opened and she exited the elevator. She then walked by a couple offices, nodding at various people as they greeted her. She passed by one of the vacant spaces where Null was mopping the floor, singing along to the music being played on the building's PA system and using the mop as a microphone.

Violet suddenly stopped a moment after her mind registered that image.

 _What the hell!?_

She took a couple steps backwards and looked back in to the room where Null, his back to her, was singing along to Sid Vicious' version of "My Way".

"And more...much more than this...I did it...Myyyyyyyyyyyyy Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay-" Null suddenly stopped in mid-verse when he saw Violet standing there with a big grin on her face. He immediately stood up and stopped treating the mop like a microphone. "Oh, hey, Vi...good morning!"

"Oooookaaaaaay," Violet said, trying to take in the situation. "Do I even want to know why you're wearing maintenance coveralls and mopping a floor?"

"Um...nothing better to do at the moment?" Null offered. "Besides, it's part of my job description."

"Null, officially, you don't have a job here."

"And, as I pointed out last night, I still collect a paycheck." Null then resumed mopping the floor. "Might as well do something around here to earn it."

"Okay, you and I really need to talk about your past."

"No...we don't."

"Yes, we do."

"No, we don't."

"Do."

"Don't."

"Do."

Null shook his head and sighed in resignation. "Fine," he said. "We'll talk about my past. I met David about a year ago, we got into some trouble, but we managed to survive it. End of story."

"What kind of trouble?" Violet asked.

"Sorry, we only agreed to talk about my past. We did, but you didn't say we were talking about trouble."

"Dammit, Null, you can't do that!"

"Okay, fine...tell you what...give me that coffee and maybe I'll talk."

"That's David's," Violet said as she glanced over at David's office. "Ash said it would..."

That's when she realized that she was now talking to an empty room with a mop bucket in it.

"Shit," she grumbled. "How the hell does he do that?"

She walked up to the door of David's office and rapped on it with her knuckles. "Hey, David...open up...I got coffee."

"Hold on," was the response, followed by someone stumbling against the door. "Oh yeah...door knob...how do you work these again?"

Before Violet could answer, the door swung open, revealing David standing there, looking slightly disheveled, sporting a black eye and twitching slightly. "Oh...hey Vi...glad you're here, I need your help."

"David, are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, fine...fine," David said before he turned around and gestured to the small microwave oven in a cabinet that was up against one of the walls of his office. "I keep trying to change the channels on this television set and it won't work."

"David, that's a microwave." Violet handed her boss a cup of coffee. "Are you okay?" she asked again.

David took a sip of the coffee, closing his eyes for a moment to savor the black bitter taste before swallowing. "Damn...strong shit...glad I hired Ash, she really knows her coffee." He twitched again, cocking his head to one side before opening his eyes. The glazed look faded a little, his eyes becoming more lucid. "Oh, hey Violet...what can I do for you?"

"Are you okay?"

He stared at her for a moment and blinked. "You do realize you asked me that question three times in the last two minutes, right?" He took another sip of coffee and shook his head. "To answer your question, I'm fine...considering the fact your brother beat the shit out of me, I took one of Nigel's pain killers that resulted in some very bizarre dreams, and woke up half draped over a couch in one of the residential suites. And we won't even talk about some of the weird dreams I had that involved you, Zoe, leather, chains, the Michelin Tire Man and..." He stopped when he realized what he was saying. "Never mind."

"I don't want to know," Violet said, dismissing that mental image that was forming in her own mind. "By the way, I saw something really strange; Null playing janitor and doing a Sid Vicious impression."

"Ah...good to know he's doing something in his spare time," David chuckled before taking another sip of coffee. "Oh yeah...really good shit. Remind me to thank Ash for this. I think my head's starting to clear up." He walked back behind his desk and sat down. "So, Null was singing Sid Vicious? I wonder if we caught that on camera."

Violet pulled a chair up to the other side of David's desk and sat down. She sipped her peppermint mocha and paused for a moment, she and David staring awkwardly at each other. "Listen," she finally said, "I didn't know what Dash was going to do, but I know why he did it."

"Probably the whole 'son of Syndrome' thing," David smirked. "I understand."

Violet shook her head, answering David's smirk with one of her own. "You know, it's not all about you."

"It's not?" David pretended to sound hurt. "But I was so used to being the center of the universe." Then he smiled at her, but it didn't reach his eyes. "That dinner thing you talked about last night...that's it, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Violet replied. "And I spent most of last night trying to decide if I should tell you. I still can't believe it myself, and while it is 'family business', part of me thinks you have a right to know."

"But you're still not sure if it's a good idea to tell me either," David said. Violet nodded and he shrugged. "Then don't tell me, because it's really none of my business and I have other things to worry about."

Violet almost choked on her mocha. "What? You don't want to know?"

"Of course I want to know, Vi...but remember what I told you back when I got the Mustang? There's bad blood between your family and me. Though I had nothing to do with that, it's going to take time to build up trust." David smiled at her again. "And I think we're getting there, since you admitted that we are 'sort of' friends."

"You're going to keep using that term, aren't you?"

David's smile grew wider. He gave her a shrug and took another sip of his coffee. "Only for a little while...until I get tired of it and actually consider you a friend."

"Does that mean you'll tell me what Null does around here?"

David arched an eyebrow at that question, his brow furrowed as he became lost in thought for a moment. "Well, now that you mention it...I really don't know what he does around here. Although, according to you, he does janitorial work...didn't realize that was part of his job description."

"He's not on the payroll."

"Actually, he is...check under the department for 'Miscellaneous Services'...paycheck issued to one Luigi Vampa."

"That's not a real name, David...that's a character out of 'The Count of Monte Cristo'."

David blinked in surprise. "Wow, you read Dumas? You're more well read than I thought."

"Wasn't aware that you read his works either."

"Hey, anything that has intricate plots of revenge and the bad guys getting screwed over...you know I'm going to read it." Then David gave her a guilty look. "Although," he admitted, "I prefer watching the movies."

"So what does Null do around here, exactly?"

"Like I said...not really sure what he does and I really don't care. After all, his most recent job was to keep tabs on your father."

"What!?" Violet almost screeched. "You have him spying on my dad?"

"Spying is such an ugly word, but that's what Utopia was doing. Null simply discouraged the Utopia operatives monitoring your family. I mean...for crying out loud, Vi, they had guys following every one one of you. They had a couple people at Metroville High monitoring Dash, one agent was watching your mother, another was following your dad, a few more were masquerading as staffers at Jack's school, and they had one pervert who enjoyed doing long nights parked outside your dorm...and you don't want to know what kind of imaging equipment he was using." A now familiar malicious gleam formed in David's eyes. "That agent is currently in an ICU at Metroville General. I'm expecting Fox News or CTV to air that little story in the next couple days. I'm sure the parents of the girls who live at that dorm are going to love hearing that a Utopia agent was using advanced equipment to spy on the residents. Oh...and don't worry...the footage he had of you has been removed and destroyed."

"Do I want to know how he ended up in the hospital?"

David shook his head. "No,not really, though I wouldn't have wanted to be in that van when it suddenly flipped over like that before slamming into a tree...or did the van flip over when the tree slammed into it? Really not sure...though in the tree's defense, the van must have appeared dangerous."

That comment sent a shudder down Violet's spine. Though she was already aware of what David had done to Kari in the hospital, he was now admitting to her that Null had been watching her family and been dealing with the Utopia agents that were spying on them. While part of her was horrified at that revelation, another part of her felt a little grateful that David was watching out for them...albeit in a borderline psychotic way.

 _Then again,_ she thought to herself, _this is a group that went out of their way to target Zoe, Jack, and me._

"About Utopia," she finally said. "I know they've done some questionable things and I have no love for them...but what did they do to you?"

That haunted look returned to David's eyes again. "It's not what they did to me, but to others," he replied. "Utopia, or to be more precise, the people running it, did some ugly things. As for my personal beef with them...you got it backwards. I did something they didn't like."

"What did you do?" Violet didn't want to sound too curious, but she had the feeling that David was letting her in on something. "What could you have possibly done to piss off an international organization?"

"I woke up."

Before Violet could ask what David meant by that, there was a rapping on the office door that was followed by the door flying open and blur of plaid fabric and pink hair whirling into the room before coalescing into a human form next to Violet.

"David,David,David. Yougotta'helpme! Momanddadhavegonecrazy. They'retryingtostepfordizeme! Help,help,help!"

"Zoe?" David asked, blinking at the strange apparition that formed in front of him. "What the hell!?"

Violet tried not to laugh, but failed. "Okay," she giggled as she looked at Zoe. "That's the second strangest thing I've seen today."

Zoe turned and frowned at her. "It's not funny!" she snarled, tugging at the navy blue suit jacket that went well with the blue-plaid pattern of the skirt that went past her knees. "Look at me," she said, her voice reverting to normal speed. "They're making me attend that damn school Mom teaches at. They have uniforms...UNIFORMS, David! I have to wear this all the time! I look like...like...like..."

"Like 'Punk Rock Boarding School Barbie'?" Violet offered.

Zoe glared at Violet for a moment before glancing down at her outfit and starting to sniffle. "Yeah," she sobbed, her shoulders sagging in defeat, "I do!"

"Hey, I don't mind," David said from the other side of the desk. Then he saw Zoe's patented _"Death Glare of Doom"_. "Oh, sorry...did I say that out loud?"

Before he could react, Zoe was suddenly next to him and slapping him on the back of the head.

"Ow! Zoe!"

"That's not funny, David!" Then Zoe's eyes widened when she noticed David's face. "Your face...what happened?"

"Oh...it's nothing," David laughed. "Null and I were practicing hand-to-hand...and he sports a nasty left cross."

Violet was about to speak up and tell the truth, but caught the slight shake of David's head and decided to keep quiet about what really happened.

"Null did this?" Zoe asked. "You went hand to hand with Null? Do have a death wish?" She smacked him again on the side of the head and then hugged him.

"Ow...Zoe, it was just a training accident," David assured her. He then decided to try a different tactic. "Um, Zoe...no offense, not that I don't enjoy your new look...but don't you think you can switch to something...normal?"

Zoe pulled away and looked down at her outfit. "You're right...I should change, I think have some clothes upstairs."

She disappeared in a blur that swirled once around the desk before leaving the office. David and Violet stared at each other for a moment before turning their combined attention to the two coffee cups on the table.

"David...you don't think..."

David nodded as he reached forward and turned his coffee cup upside down, unsurprised that it was empty. "Yep...I think she drank them both."

Violet turned her own cup upside down. "You're right...empty. By the way, why didn't you tell her?"

"Vi, you know how impulsive Zoe is. Better to let her think this was an accident. Otherwise, she might do something stupid."

"Like what?"

David didn't answer, he only shuddered in response.

"Okay, fine," she said. "Let's move on to the next topic of the day. You got four prospective new-hires downstairs waiting to talk to you."

"Four?" David asked. "I thought we had three. Blevins, Graves, and Frozone's nephew that you secretly recruited behind my back."

"I didn't secretly recruit him," Violet snapped at him. "You said I could have say in who we hire on if I felt they were qualified."

David smirked at her, his eyes looking like they were blindly focusing on something else, a sign that he was mentally linking to the facility's network. "Actually, from what I'm looking at in this file, I'm surprised he didn't apply with the initial group...and he's wasting his talent with Sefton Salvaging...wait...Penny Sefton, wasn't she your mother's side-"

"Don't bring that up," Violet half-growled, before her voice softened. "Mom and Aunt Penny...they had a disagreement. It happened around the time the government clamped down and forced most of the supers into retirement."

David arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Is there a deep dark secret in the Parr family closet," he asked before taking another sip of his coffee. Then he noticed glare on Violet's face. "Whoa...I was joking."

An invisible force smacked David on the back of the head.

"Ow! Dammit, Vi!"

Violet grinned at him. "Behave, or I'll hit lower next time," she said. Then the grin faded as she talked about the other applicants. "Blevins still thinks you're an immature brat, but I think she's here because of the salary you offered. I'm not sure why you called Graves back, though. High school graduate, sophomore at college, still has no clue what she's going to to major in."

"Hey, I haven't gone to college, and I'm doing well."

"Well not everyone is a mega-brain like you, Mr. Soccer Geek-Jock."

"Hey, we agreed not talk about that."

"No, you agreed not to bring it up, I didn't."

David shook his head. "Oh god...you're almost as bad as Zoe."

"Oh, believe me," Violet giggled, a sound that chilled David to the bone. "I can do worse, I've actually worked with you these last few weeks."

"And yet you're still here," David shot back with a smile of his own. "So I must be doing something right. So, what can you tell me about our mysterious fourth guest?"

"All I got was a name. Jake Peters, at least that's what Damon told me." Violet watched David's eyes seem to un-focus for a moment, as if he were looking at something that wasn't there, another sign that he was linked to the building's security system and probably the net as well.

 _Though I've heard him mention that he is always linked in some way._

"Well, that's interesting," David said, blinking a couple times before cutting his connection and looking at Violet. "Just did a facial recognition scan from the surveillance cameras and went through a couple databases. It turns out that Mr. Peters didn't exist until a few years ago."

"A Utopia plant?"

David shook his head. "No, but his background is probably one of the best 'ghost-jobs' I've seen, though the digital fingerprints have NSA all over them."

"NSA, you think Dicker sent him?"

David smirked at her. "Don't you think that would be a little overkill, Vi? I mean, he already has you watching me. No...this is something else."

"Should I have Null get rid of him."

"Nah, I think we'll keep him around, see what his story is. Besides, according to some of the other stuff I'm digging up, he is experienced in body-guard and security work."

"But he's not Utopia?"

"No, and that bothers me. Because if he was Utopia, we'd just toss his ass out the door. But since we don't know, we'll have to keep him around and figure out what his game is."

* * *

Thankfully, Zoe managed to find a pair of jeans, her spare sneakers, and stole one of David's t-shirts. After looking at herself in the mirror and satisfied that she didn't look like a Stepford child anymore, she headed downstairs where Ashley Winthrop was filling up a sixty-four ounce thermal mug with Zoe's favorite drink.

"Hi Zoe." Ashley said. "Someone here missed you." Ashley whistled and an Australian shepherd that was curled up underneath a table behind the espresso stand woke up and started barking before running to Zoe.

"Brody!" Zoe knelt down and began scratching her dog behind the ears. After a few seconds, she stood back up. "Thanks for looking after him, Ash."

"No problem, kiddo," Ashley said as she handed Zoe the large mug. "Here you go...a Heath Bar Latte with eight shots."

Zoe took a long pull off the latte, her eyes momentarily rolling to the back of her head as she savored the taste. "Ooooooh...that's good."

Ashley shook her head and laughed. "Okay, the relationship you have with your coffee...that's just disturbing."

"I'm sorry," Zoe said before taking another sip. "It's just that when someone puts a big one right in front of me...I just get this urge and go weak in the knees...and I all I can think of is wrapping my lips around it and sucking that sweet smooth nectar down with-"

She stopped in mid-sentence when she realized that all the noise in the background stopped. She looked around and noticed that all the other patrons of the espresso bar had stopped what they were doing, as did the various bystanders in the lobby...and they were all looking at her with intense interest as they were waiting for her to continue speaking.

About a block away, Null was walking down the sidewalk and suddenly stopped, looking up in the air at something that wasn't visible to the human eye. "Okay...something really cool just happened."

Back in the lobby of SST, Zoe turned back to Ashley. "So how much do I owe you?"

There was a collective groan from all the people in the lobby, disappointed that Zoe was not going to continue her speech, and they went back to what they were doing.

Ashley managed to stifle her laughter. "That'll be seven dollars, Zoe."

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing."

"Okay," Zoe said. "Tell David I'll be in my little office. C'mon Brody!"

The Australian shepherd let out a playful bark and obediently followed his mistress. Ashley waited until she was certain Zoe was gone before letting loose. There were tears in her eyes from laughing so hard and she found herself almost gasping for air.

That's when Null came through the front doors. He looked around the lobby for a few seconds, then looked at Ashley. "Don't tell me," he said. "I missed it, didn't I?"

"Yep."

"Damn."

Ashley was still giggling as she started cleaning her espresso machine while Null walked off, grumbling in disappointment.

* * *

Zoe entered her office, sipping her latte as she sat down at her desk and logged on to her computer while Brody curled up by her feet. The last few weeks had been a real pain in the ass for her. At first, her parents wanted her to sever all contacts with David and keep her at Avalon. It was a living hell...they made her wear a uniform, participate in classes, made her do homework...at normal speed!

She hated it and, the first chance she got, she ran away. Though it took a lot of effort, she was able to hack the computer that operated the containment field around the school. Knowing full well that she couldn't directly hack the computer without being caught, she simply added a sub-routine to the computer's programming that made it perform a routine systems diagnostic, a random event that consisted of the computer shutting the field down for about thirty seconds. The moment the field went down, she bolted and made her way to SST. She knew that her parents would come looking for her, but that didn't matter.

Of course there was going to be a confrontation, but here at SST, she had the "home court" advantage. If her parents wanted to "discuss" her future, it was going to be here...not at Avalon. In the meantime, she decided to take a look at the surveillance videos from the last couple weeks and see if anything cool happened while she was gone.

* * *

 _ **Mexico City, Mexico**_

 _ **Grand Phoenix Hotel**_

Buddy Pine looked around the penthouse suite of the hotel he had checked into and paused for a moment. He looked out the large windows that allowed him a view of the entire city and took a moment to savor it. He figured it would be best to do that now because he knew that the view would be very different within the next twenty-four hours.

 _Then again, it's going to be even more interesting how everyone will spin it,_ he thought to himself as he grabbed himself a beer from the small fridge under the wet-bar that came with the room. He popped the top off the bottle, took a sip, and savored the taste.

 _The Utopia-friendly networks will probably paint this as the work of some unknown or rogue nova...just like they're hinting at in regards to my little incident in the Indian Ocean. It's interesting that Utopia's masters must know I'm the one behind it, but they are perfectly willing to let their puppets assume that it was someone else. It kind of sucks, actually...a group like the Teragen being given credit for it, but that's okay. As far as the world's concern, Buddy Pine aka "Syndrome" is long gone...better to let them think that and be 'invisible' for the moment._

He took another pull off the bottle and then picked up the small palm-pilot off the coffee table. He opened up a couple applications which sent a coded transmission via the net to the automated system on the yacht anchored just off the shores of Acapulco. Buddy smiled as he saw a tiny window pop-up, displaying a countdown that had ten hours to go. He could imagine those modified missiles being fed targeting data as their launchers began to position them.

 _It was rather nice of the Nakato to have those cruise missiles on board...I wonder what they would think of the modifications I made to them._

Again, Buddy almost felt appreciative for the Nakato while at the same time mentally berating them for being stupid enough to have left that kind of ordinance openly available to anyone...well...anyone with a high degree of intelligence and a knack for dealing with advanced technology. Okay, so not everyone had that kind of ability...but still...he couldn't believe how easy it was to get himself established so quickly.

 _Stumbling across a Nakato operation that had appropriated one of my former "safe-house" locations and setting up this deal with the CMA...if I was anything at all like these fanatics I'm doing business with, I would almost claim it's God's will._

Buddy chuckled at that thought and appreciated the irony of it. Here he was, a nova, creating and selling advanced weapons to an organization dedicated to wiping out novas because they were considered "Satan's children" or whatever label those nutjobs attached to them. Then again, his super ability could simply be hidden or passed off as just being a highly intelligent weapons designer. He didn't have any blatant "super powers".

 _As far as the CMA is concerned, "Gabriel" is simply a weapons designer who is at odds with what's happening in the world. Hell, I can imagine Piper or some of the other leaders preaching that I am a blessing to them...helping them carry out "The Lord's Will"._

He shook his head and chuckled at that thought. He had made up the "Gabriel" identity on the spot. He didn't want to reveal his true identity to the world...not just yet. The last thing he wanted to do was advertise to the world that Buddy Pine aka "Syndrome" had returned from the dead.

 _Though it seems that Pine Industries and "Syndrome" are long forgotten...perhaps that's for the best. That ship has sailed and long sunk to the bottom of some ocean._

He looked at the other application that was running, a small drafting program that he manipulated by touching a stylus-pen to the screen. This particular file showed the schematics of his personal pet project...he wasn't sure of the initial design, but then again, this was just an early draft. Originally, he didn't care much for the concept of powered-armor in the past...it reminded him too much of some of the cheezy Japanese anime he used to watch back in his college days.

However, he did like reading the "Iron Man" comic when he was a kid, though he felt the concept of having a "powered armor" that could fit into a briefcase was very unrealistic. It took Buddy at least six suitcases to smuggle in his gear.

 _Although I hear they're talking about making a live action movie...maybe I'll check that out if and when it hits theaters. I wonder if the rumors are true and Marvel comics made him a bad guy and he turned on his fellow heroes._

He tapped away at the design with the pen, bringing up a detailed blueprint of the internal-frame.

 _It may look like something out of an anime, but at least it'll be functional and fit with my new persona. If I play this right, the CMA will prove a useful tool for me. But first...I need to do something that will win them over._

He looked back out the window again, looking at some of the tall skyscrapers that made up part of the city skyline, wondering which one of those would still be standing when it was over. One particular building had his interest...the gleaming white obelisk that sported the Team Tomorrow logo...the headquarters for T2M Americas. He was certain that the people of Mexico City looked at that building and Project Utopia as a symbol...a symbol of hope that had revitalized their city and would eventually do that for the rest of their country.

 _Kind of sad, actually...but also kind of cool. People must see that building and Utopia as the soul and hope for their city. Project Utopia has done much to bring this place from being the cesspool of what it once was to what it is today. The "modern gods" of today have done this city good._

He minimized the drafting program, brought up the countdown again and grinned.

 _Killing gods and the soul of an entire city within a day...that will look really good on the resume'._


	11. And Gabriel Blew His Horn

**Disclaimer** : Don't own Aberrant, don't own Incredibles. White Wolf owns the former, Pixar/Disney own the latter.

 **Author's Notes:** Okay, just so you know, Geryon (James Booth) is a character from Aberrant, he's a faction leader in the Teragen and...well...he's something of a nova vigilante (targeting anyone who tries to harm novas). I hope I do the character justice. I've had to re-write this part a few times...tried to shorten it. I hope nobody here is a fan of T2M: Americas. It's not pretty...Buddy's a little brutal in this chapter. I hope you like this. In the meantime, feel free to leave comments, criticisms, and the occasional threat. Feedback is always good...I guess.

* * *

 _Mexico City, home of T2M Americas, has turned itself around miraculously in the past 10 years. Once an overpopulated breeding pit of poverty and violence, Mexico City has benefited greatly from the presence and investment of the novas who dwell there. Now one of the cleanest cities in North America, Mexico City also intends to revive the national economy, starting locally. It is another multicultural hub, and all but the most daft of visitors can find someone who speaks their language. In addition, the young economy-on-the-upswing has drawn a fair share of entrepreneurs who, if you can look past their awful suits and omnipresent cellphone conversations, may turn Mexico City into a metropolis of global import. Perhaps in spite of themselves._

Excerpt from Duke Rollo's _**Why Customs Officials Hate Me — The Wretched World of Contract Journalism**_

* * *

 **Mexico City, Mexico**

 **Grand Phoenix Hotel**

Buddy smiled as he finished the calibrations on the boot-jets. According to the control console on his right gauntlet, they were now properly synchronized to the booster-pack that would be attached to the back of his body armor. Unfortunately, he didn't have the time to link the pack to the HUD system in his helmet, not that it mattered...it was linked to the small control panel in his ZP gauntlets which were well protected. He spent most of the day modifying the helmet that he had purchased from a store. Granted, it was just a motorcycle helmet, but it was one of the modern ones that had a polarized visor and basic radio and cellular communication ability. It was a simple matter of re-wiring and adding a little bit of extra hardware.

 _It's a pity I lost the other helmet in San Francisco, but this will do in a pinch. Besides, it's not like I'm going to be keeping this cobbled together getup. I'm only using this to conceal my identity and send a message._

He spent the next few minutes putting on the various pieces of body armor. When the last piece clicked into place, he tapped a couple buttons on the right hand gauntlet, synchronizing it with the systems of his cybernetic right arm. The HUD system momentarily displayed a status bar before confirming synchronization. It also flashed the two minute warning, informing him that the missiles would be on their way shortly.

 _Okay...it's showtime! Two minutes to launch._

He was expecting to feel the thrill of anticipation as he watched the time click away, but was surprised that he experienced a sense of boredom instead.

 _Then again, I've already caused a disaster of "nearly biblical proportions", killed a bunch of people, slaughtered an entire cell of Yakuza thugs, blew up an international sea-port facility, and killed a popular superteam...damn, it's been a busy week...I think I need a vacation already._

He sighed as he watched the last fifteen seconds start to tick away.

 _Hmmm...where to go...where to go...Vegas sounds good._

10...9...8...7...

 _Nah...better keep it local. Maybe I'll take a couple days off and just hit Santa Cruz...The Pacifica Grille is there, haven't been there in years. Really missed their bacon and grilled onion burger...damn..._

 _6...5...4..._

 _Now I'm hungry...I wonder if I should get something to eat._

3...2...1..0...

Suddenly, a new countdown started, twenty four minutes minutes and counting. Buddy sighed again as he watched the new countdown.

 _Dammit...I really should have ordered that steak and lobster dinner._

Off the shores of Acapulco, the first of four missiles launched, a ten-foot long projectile shooting skyward. Within in the first twenty seconds, the launch had been picked up by Project Utopia, NATO, and NORAD. Utopia immediately put out a call to Team Tomorrow Americas while the US government ordered a flight of fighters and the few flight capable novas they had up in the air. It was impressive, it all happened in less than a minute. The novas of Team Tomorrow Americas that were capable, were airborne and on their way to intercept the missile that continued to gain altitude...then three other missiles were launched four minutes after the first missile...this time at a different trajectory. Unlike the first missile, they were heading for land-based targets.

The first missile, traveling much faster than the others, had actually reached the lower stratosphere in those four minutes before detonating. To the two novas known as Sliptream and Skyburn...it was almost a disappointment. They were expecting some sort of explosion, but all they saw was what appeared to be a blue flash, as if someone had set off a giant flash bulb from an over-sized camera

Then they saw it...a blue ring of energy that suddenly expanded across the sky, bathing the area with an eerie blue glow. Neither of them realized what was happening, only that their communications gear suddenly stopped working.

To the people stationed at the monitoring posts of NORAD and Project Utopia, they suddenly lost all satellite feed for the area over a large portion of Mexico and part of California. Instead of raw data, it was a blue haze on the screen and static over the audio channels. NORAD immediately ordered the aircraft that had just scrambled to pull back.

To the people of Mexico city, all forms of electronic and digital communications suddenly went off line. Internet users lost their connections, cell-phones lost their signals,various networks went down...unable to communicate, Mexico City and the surrounding area went silent.

Back in his hotel room, Buddy watched the countdown continue on, pausing momentarily to look at the window and watch the crowded streets become even more crowded as people rushed out into the streets to find out what was going on. He could also hear the sound of sirens in the distance and could see a couple accidents in a nearby intersection.

 _Yep...traffic signal network went down. It's absolute chaos out there...damn...I really should have gotten something to eat before this._

He looked at the HUD again and started humming the Imperial Death March from Star Wars. The first missile had obviously detonated, the little "quantum dispersion wave" worked like a nice little EMP blast crippling just about everything that was electronic and wasn't properly shielded by a zero-point energy field...like the one generated by his gauntlets. He took a few moments to check out the various weapons he would be using. The primary plasma rifle he would be carrying was something that he had to grudgingly give the Nakato some credit for...they had managed to build up a decent cooling system compared to his original design, but the discharge coils had to be re-calibrated to work at the original setting he had designed them for. The same could be said about the light rail-based "needle-gun" mounted on his left shoulder...they didn't use the titanium/duralloy based ammunition he had designed for the weapon, but the eumetal ammo would do...for now.

 _Then again, Eumetal and Eufibre are supposedly more "environment friendly"...shit...I really wish people would get off the political correctness band wagon. On the other hand, "going green" has got to be the best quick get-rich scam the world governments have come up with._

A grim smile crept across Buddy's face.

 _And I guess I'm doing my part...a lot of people won't be leaving "carbon footprints" after tonight. Hell...I've gotten rid of a lot of "carbon footprints" this week. And the bodies ARE biodegradable. I should get a Nobel prize for my efforts._

He couldn't help chuckling at that thought, then he saw something outside the window that caught his attention. Two novas were descending from the sky towards the T2M building. He brought the HUD targeting system up, zooming in on the front of the building. Four more novas could be seen stepping out of the entrance of the building while another one with wings flew out of an opening at the top.

 _Yep...there we go...all seven of them._

He then turned his attention to the crowded streets and the people looking up in the sky, pointing at the weird blue haze up in the atmosphere that seemed to pulsate in various patterns not unlike the famous "Northern Lights" of the Aurora Borealis.

 _Except my light-show is going to involve more audience participation,_ Buddy smirked to himself. The "pupil-lock" system he rigged up allowed him to bring up targeting reticles which he used to lock on various members of Team Tomorrow. Upon locking on a target, the HUD immediately brought up summarized info he had hacked from the T2M: Americas tower.

 _ **Target – Skyburn**_

 _ **Name – Mackenzie Rhodes**_

 _ **Designation – Offensive Operations**_

 _ **Known Powers – Elemental Based, Fire...Flight**_

 _ **Target – Slipstream**_

 _ **Name - Shayla MacTaggert**_

 _ **Designation – Offensive Operations, Reconnaissance**_

 _ **Known Powers – Supersonic Flight, Air manipulation**_

 _Hmm...those would be the two idiots who were capable of making it to the stratosphere...what about the third flyer?_

 _ **Target - Jaguar**_

 _ **Name - Manuella Perez**_

 _ **Designation – Offensive Operations, Infiltration**_

 _ **Known Powers – Enhanced Reflexes, Enhanced Senses, Claws, Limited Regenerative ability**_

 _Oh goody, the resident hot "furry feline" chick...damn...not bad measurements though._

 _ **Target – Sea Hawk**_

 _ **Name – David Markham**_

 _ **Designation – Secondary Team Leader, T2M: Americas**_

 _ **Known Powers- Limited Flight (winged), Enhanced Sight, Enhanced Strength, Durability**_

 _Ah, there's the other flyer. Hmm..this guy could be trouble. According to his main bio, he was former military, a Naval Academy graduate and former S.E.A.L...he's probably more of a threat than the actual team leader. Which brings me to..._

 _ **Target – Gila**_

 _ **Name - Ricardo Montoya-Bernal**_

 _ **Designation – Team Leader, T2M: Americas**_

 _ **Known Powers – Mega Strength, Mega Dexterity**_

 _Great, they put a former masked wrestler from the XWF in charge of a T2M cell...from what I read of this guy, he's an arrogant prick and full of himself. I think I'll save him for last._

 _ **Target – Stinger**_

 _ **Name – Lisa Tyrell**_

 _ **Designation – Intelligence, offensive operations**_

 _ **Known Powers – Enhanced Strength, Enhanced Reflexes, Light-bending Camouflage, Adhesion**_

 _That must be the babe with long brown hair tied back in a pony-tail...yep, she just went "invisible" and is stalking her way to a vantage point. Not going to help you, bitch, I can detect your body-heat and quantum signature just fine._

 _ **Target – Portal**_

 _ **Name – Melissanda Estevez**_

 _ **Designation – Reconnaissance, Logistics**_

 _ **Known Powers – Enhanced Reflexes, Teleportation**_

 _Ah yes...the teleporter. Definitely the most dangerous out of the group._

He smiled as the targeting window for the rail-launcher flashed into existence.

 _But easily taken care of._

 _ **Target Lock – Portal.**_

Buddy didn't even flinch as the projectiles from the rail launcher blasted through the glass of the windows, but he did chuckle as he watched Melissanda Estevez' head suddenly explode, splattering two of her teammates with skull fragments, blood, and brain matter.

 _One down...now let the show begin._

With a wild cry he jumped through the window of his hotel room, his boot-jets kicking on after he had fallen several floors. He thumbed on the external speakers to address the bystanders below who were pointing up at him.

"Pay no heed, people," he said. "It'll be all over soon."

 _And those of you who survive will never forget this day._

 _ **Plasma Rifle Calibrated...Targeting.**_

 _ **Quantum Signature – Stinger – Target Locked**_

A large ball of energy erupted from the barrel of the plasma rifle, slamming into the wall of a building, momentarily revealing the silhouette of a woman trying to jump clear before it was consumed by the expanding fireball that blew out the entire third floor of the building. Buddy doubted Stinger even knew what hit her or even had time to scream as she disintegrated.

 _Two down, five to go._

* * *

Mexico City had become crown jewel for Project Utopia, proof that a benevolent organization could turn a city on the brink of collapse and infested by corruption into a beacon of what the rest of the world could aspire to...so long as they followed the Utopia ideal.

James Booth hated Mexico City, it represented one of the major things he hated about Utopia and, if he had his way, he wouldn't be here. On the other hand, Mexico City was relatively easy to infiltrate and one of the last places the international authorities would look for him. After all, when he was powered up, he was the Teragen monstrosity known as Geryon, nova terrorist and a regular resident on most law enforcement agencies' top ten list.

However, that was Geryon they were hunting, not James Booth, who could pass as a baseline human. Not only that, no one would think to look for Geryon in a Project Utopia stronghold. But it wasn't James' intention to lie low, that was just a fringe benefit. He was actually following up on a lead that Synapse, another member of the Teragen, had given him. Though James didn't care much for Synapse's cocky attitude, he had to admit the boy was one hell of an asset when it came to the frontier of cyberspace.

Apparently, Synapse had stumbled across a highly encrypted teleconference on the net. The irony was that he wouldn't have picked it up through the sea of mass communications across the net if the damn thing hadn't been so highly encrypted. It was like throwing a bloody piece of meat in a shark tank, a challenge for the quantum enhanced super-hacker to break. But even with his advanced abilities, it had proven quite the challenge and he had only been able to crack into the tail end of the digital gathering. However, it was enough to worry a lot of people.

It was a meeting of the leadership of the Church of Michael Archangel, a group of pseudo-religious fanatics, based mostly in the rural southern back country in the United States, who saw novas as being demons. When they first surfaced, the Michaelites were laughed at, even most of the members of the Teragen, along with most of the world, dismissed these people as crazed lunatics with no real cause and not much of a threat.

That all changed six months ago when the Michaelites took down the nova hero known as the "Houston Tornado". Sure, the baselines ambushed the poor bastard, but the fact that they had done so in an organized fashion with basic tactics and crude weapons, it was obvious that the monkeys were learning very quickly. There had been talks of a few novas seeking retribution for those responsible, but targeting the known Michaelite compounds would have been a suicide mission. It also wasn't a good idea because there was a possibility of a hidden Michaelite cell waiting to strike, and an all out assault on them might draw more baselines to side with the fanatics.

James was certain there was going to be a war, that was inevitable, but he also wasn't stupid. As much as he wanted to go after those bigoted monkeys, he knew that the Teragen weren't ready for the war...not yet, at least. Too many people in the Teragen were divided over what to do, some wanted outright war, others suggested neutrality, and some even wanted to establish some sort of new status-quo with the baselines. While he didn't want to go to war right away, James wasn't stupid. It was only a matter of time before the monkeys turned on the novas and tried to control them or just outright destroy them. To him, Utopia was merely a first step in that direction, and while he didn't want to see them dead, he saw the novas working for Utopia as sell-outs and had no problem beating them to a bloody pulp.

Then the game suddenly changed.

He wasn't sure how or exactly when it changed, but he could feel that something was terribly wrong. Fate, God, or whatever was guiding this little drama decided to kick things up a notch. The first clue was the freak tsunami activity and electro-magnetic storms in the Indian Ocean that disrupted communications, sank several freighters and cruise ships, and wiped out various seaside cities and villages off the coasts of several countries. The last known body count was pushing nearly a million people. According to the world-wide media, it was a natural disaster, but he knew that was a crock of shit the moment he heard it. Utopia and various International agencies were doing their best to figure out what created that burst of quantum energy that caused so much devastation.

Actually, he was certain Utopia knew what caused it, but they were doing their best to feign ignorance with the rest of the world and were probably trying to cover any evidence that might link them to the disaster.

Then there was the attack on San Francisco a few days ago and the destruction of their resident nova super-team, the Protectors. There was no mistake about it, the novas were targeted and systematically taken out, except for one member who was seriously injured and would have died if that idiot Bomber hadn't showed up and saved her life.

At first, the Utopia controlled media tried to blame Bomber for the attack on The Protectors, but James knew that was a lie. Jean-Paul Renard, killing a super-team and blowing up a chunk of the historic San Francisco waterfront? Not likely. Renard was an adrenaline junkie, but he wasn't a cold blooded murderer, that wasn't his style. Eye witness accounts from baseline survivors of the attack cleared Bomber any wrong-doing, claiming that an unknown man wearing black body-armor, sporting some extremely high-tech weaponry, and, according to a couple witnesses, shot some sort of blue energy out his hands, was to blame.

James had planned on crashing the hospital where Renard was being held and get more information about the mysterious attacker, but a couple Elites had shown up to kill Renard, who managed to escape and disappear. Despite his opinion about Renard, he was starting to admire the punk's ability to survive and escape. However, with Renard on the run, his lead on who attacked San Francisco was gone...until Synapse showed him some interesting data he intercepted.

Apparently, a few days before the attack on San Francisco, someone had killed a group of Nakato in British Columbia, seized their assets, and blew up a large chunk of the shipping port facility in Vancouver. According to witnesses, they saw what appeared to be a miniature "lightning storm of cackling blue energy" after the blast. After doing some digging through the digital records of various Nakato front companies, Synapse had learned the Nakato were smuggling in weapons from Japan to Vancouver and planning to sell them to a group of Michaelites. That little tidbit was enough to get James' interest. He had tangled with the Nakato, and he had seen some of the tech they were starting to field, stuff that could drop him. The fact that they were willing to sell their tech to the Michaelites was bad news.

But the deal had fallen through. Someone had killed the Nakato cell before the representatives of the Michaelites even arrived. However, someone calling himself "Gabriel" had contacted one of the Michaelite compounds and informed them that he would like to continue the business arrangement they had with the Nakato. Though the conversation was brief and sketchy, the man called Gabriel said that he would provide an 'audition' to prove himself. A day or two after that conversation, the attack on San Francisco happened, then that highly encrypted teleconference occurred. Though Synapse hadn't been able to recover the whole conversation, the last few seconds were enough: Mexico City was the next target.

And that was why James found himself in Mexico City, pretending to be a tourist on holiday. He had been there for almost two days and found himself dying of boredom. For what had to be the hundredth time, he checked in with Synapse who constantly asked him to pick some souvenirs while he was down there, joking about how he could use a giant sombrero to put on his cryo-tank where his actual body was stored. After what had become this annoying ritual of reporting in, arguing about this was a mission and not a sight-seeing tour, James had finally lost his cool and started to tell Synapse what the little net-linked nova could do with his self...or he would have if a sudden blue flash up in the heavens and something that looked like an evil twin of the naturally occurring Aurora Borealis appeared in the sky.

Then the link with Synapse went dead, the lighting in all the buildings started flickering before going out. People around him, who until that moment were lost in their own little world until their cell-phones or any other digital communication devices went out were suddenly wondering what was going on in their otherwise boring life. However, all of them, including James, looked up at the sky momentarily mesmerized by the blue haze that seemed to go on forever in the sky above the city. The sound of screeching tires and something crashing made him look around and he noticed that all the major traffic signals had gone out. He looked in the direction of the Utopia building near the city center and saw two novas coming down from the sky after obviously checking out the strange anomaly that suddenly appeared in the sky.

Even though he was expecting an attack, James did not expect anything like this. Like the baselines surrounding him and the clueless T2M nova team standing in front of their headquarters, he couldn't help being confused...until he saw Portal's head explode, spraying Gila and Sea-Hawk with blood and brain matter.

Then he heard people shout and saw them pointing at some hotel down the street. He saw a figure...in black body armor wearing some sort of jet pack and carrying a nasty looking energy weapon that he fired across the square and into an apartment building, blowing out the entire third floor and raining burning debris on the crowd.

"Bloody Hell!" he yelled as he, like everyone else, dove for cover. However, unlike the rest, he didn't try scrambling for shelter when he got back on his feet. Instead, he made his way towards the battle, his body beginning to shift into its monstrous form.

* * *

"Ka-Ching!" Buddy laughed as he blew up a fuel truck with his plasma launcher. "Oh yeah, wanton destruction and chaos, gotta' love it!"

 _ **Target – Sea Hawk, terminated...**_

 _Then again, being slammed into a fuel tanker and having it blow up on you is enough to roast most people, even a nova._

"Okay," he said, "that's three...have to admit I never roasted a winger before-HEY!"

Buddy managed to roll with the tackle, but lost his grip on the plasma launcher as the feline creature known as Jaguar knocked it away. "Monster!" she hissed, swiping her claws against his chest, actually slicing into the body armor.

"Whoa there, baby," Buddy chuckled, powering up one of the ZP gauntlets and catching Jaguar in a blue field. "Bad kitty."

He slammed her against a wall.

"Don't."

He sent her flying into a parked car.

"Fuck."

Then he sent her flying through the window of a restaurant.

"With."

And finally, he had the field grab her and bring down hard into the middle of the street with so much force that he could actually hear bones break from the impact.

"Daddy."

He paused to look at the fallen heroine and was actually impressed to see she was still alive, moaning softly as she tried to get up.

"Oh, I'm so sorry Timmy," Buddy said as he activated the rail-gun. "Fluffy was old, broken, and just not worth keeping around anymore." The rail gun burped once, turning Jaguar into hamburger as the rounds ripped her to shreds. "She had to be put down...and that makes four."

"Son of a bitch!" someone screamed. To punctuate that expletive, a wave of flame hit Buddy and actually knocked him to the ground.

He rolled with the impact, but cursed as the rail-gun was ripped off his shoulder mount. He went to reach for it, but jumped back as the weapon was melted to slag by a fireball that turned that small patch of ground into a pool of magma. He looked up and saw Skyburn floating there, Slipstream flanking him.

"Damn, boy," Buddy laughed. "Such passion, such anger, you sound really pissed...really fired up!"

"FUCK YOU!" Skyburn screamed as he fired a wave of fireballs at Buddy.

Buddy kicked up the power on the ZP gauntlets and having them generate a stronger field around his suit. However, he was getting concerned as he noticed the readings coming from the fireballs.

 _Shit...he's really gone into Elemental mode. He keeps this up, he might breach my field in a few minutes. Hmmm...I wonder...how much power can he hold?_

"Well shit, son, that's a lot of quantum you're flinging out, how about a boost?" Buddy aimed his right gauntlet at Skyburn, altering the ZP energy to match Skyburn's, and fired.

Skyburn actually laughed as the energy burst hit him, but did nothing. "You're shitting me! That just powered me up, asshole!"

"I know," said Buddy as he increased the energy flow.

Skyburn's eyes widened in realization before he suddenly screamed in pain. "NO! It's too much!" He tried to release the excess energy, but something was preventing it from being discharged. "NOOOOOO!"

His scream died out as he literally exploded, a fiery ring twenty feet off the ground that expanded outward for at least a city-block, incinerating just about anything in the way, including his own teammate, Slipstream, who was too stupid to get away from her boyfriend.

"Five and six," Buddy said as he went airborne again. "Now that just leaves...ah." He had one of his gauntlets deflect a large piece of concrete that was thrown at him. "There you are, Montoya. I knew you crawled under rock when the fight started, but I wasn't expecting you to throw it at me."

The leader of T2M Americas snarled as he charged Buddy. Buddy actually felt some of the force of the blow when Gila connected, knocking him through the remains of an office building before he came to a landing three blocks away.

"Shit," Buddy muttered, "I think he's pissed." He shrugged as he kicked the ZP gauntlets to full power. "Well, guess that means I can stop playing." He waited until Gila charged through the wall of a ruined building, then brought both gauntlets up, catching the attacking nova in a field. "Damn, don't you think you're taking this too personally?"

"They...were..my..friends," Gila managed to choke out.

"Bullshit," Buddy said. "A relatively new team of unknowns thrown together and you really didn't give a shit about them. They were highly paid posers, just like you. None of whom have actually been in a real fight, especially you." A simple flick of the wrist and Gila was sent across the street and into parked armored truck, his body leaving a shaped indentation in the vehicle's side panel. "This is a long cry from the XWF, Monty. Unlike those staged conflicts, this one's real." He had the field toss Montoya up high before slamming him through a bank.

Buddy walked towards the front of the bank. "What's the matter, Montoya? Where's the cocky piece of shit who owned the Monday night main event on N!CHannel?"

The sound of grinding metal was the only warning Buddy got before a bank vault door came hurling out of the opening. Buddy deflected it with a wave of his arm, the field sending the vault door down the street where it landed on a a group of people trying to flee the scene. With his gauntlet, he caught Gila in mid-leap.

"That's really pathetic," he said, shaking his head, bringing the other gauntlet into play, forcing Gila's arms and legs apart. "The great Montoya, former XWF superstar, token brick and leader of a team of glorified wannabes."

To Gila's credit, and Buddy's surprise, the hero was defiant and actually spat at him, the mixture of blood and saliva splattering on Buddy's force-field before sizzling away a second later.

"And that," Buddy chuckled, "was an act of futility." He spread his arms apart, the multi-segmented field mirroring his movements, ripping Gila's body in half. There was a brief scream, followed by a weird "splutch" noise before blood, organ tissue, and other assorted remains splattered across the area.

Buddy shook his head as he discarded the two halves of the now deceased hero. "And that," he sighed, "was just me being a sadistic bastard."

* * *

James never considered himself a religious man, but everything he experienced in the last several minutes had him actually wonder if God was pissed at the world. He made his way towards the battle, at first trying to avoid being seen, but that idea was scrapped when the unknown attacker began to cause massive collateral damage across the town.

 _No...this wasn't caused, he deliberately inflicted it._

James was no stranger to this tactic; using collateral damage as a way to strike fear into enemies had always been a sound strategy and one he used as the monstrous Geryon.

 _But even the Teragen didn't do damage on this kind of a scale. Sure, the Utopia-friendly media would accuse us of that, but we never did anything like this...at least not yet anyway._

He found himself burrowing out of rubble caused by the devastation only to buried by more rubble when he saw the T2M nova called Skyburn literally explode, sending an enormous ring of super-heated plasma that incinerated anything that happened to at the same altitude he was at. The explosion took out the third floor of any buildings within a couple blocks radius of the blast, most of them being high-rises and skyscrapers that collapsed, showering the area with more debris and burying anyone unlucky enough to be there.

There was no doubt this armored psycho was responsible for the killing of the novas in San Francisco. And while he didn't think to highly of Team Tomorrow, they were novas, his own kind...and this animal was slaughtering them.

After plowing his way through the debris of what had been an apartment building, James followed the noise of the battle and the mocking voice of the man behind this, pausing for a moment when he saw the mutilated remains for the nova known as Feral. Though no stranger to violence and having seen his share of dead bodies, he found himself swallowing back some bile.

 _Who the hell is this bastard?_

Then he heard a man's scream, followed by a sickening sound of something splattering. He rounded the corner and saw the armored figure with his back to him, walking away and leaving Gila's corpse behind.

"And that," the armored figure said, the digitized vocalizer on the helmet not even hiding the disgust in the wearer's voice, "was just me being a sadistic bastard."

Despite his rage, James managed to bite back the snarl as he charged the armored man from behind.

* * *

 _ **Unidentified Quantum Signature...**_

"What the Fu-" Buddy was hit hard from behind and sent flying through a couple buildings before landing in an intersection. Even with the protective field, he still felt the force of the blow in his back and he was certain he heard a couple ribs crack. In fact, landing flat on his back on the concrete was less painful than the blow he received. The HUD screen in his helmet flickered for a moment and he was wondering why he didn't detect the signature of the attacker, but the answer to that came in the form of the residual quantum energy that still saturated the area after Skyburn exploded.

He managed to come to that conclusion in less than a second, which was a good thing because he spent the next second rolling out of the way as something huge and ugly came down out of the sky and landed right in the space he had previously occupied. He rolled to his feet to see a nine foot tall monstrous creature with scales embedding its fist in the ground where his chest would have been if he hadn't moved out of the way.

 _ **Target Identified...Geryon**_

 _ **Warning...High Level Quantum Signature**_

 _No shit,_ Buddy thought. He hadn't planned on facing off against the Teragen, let alone on their heavy hitters like Geryon. He then looked at the small countdown display at the lower corner of the HUD.

 _Then again I won't have to. Only have a few more minutes left._

"Well, well, well," he said, hoping he kept the concern out of his voice. "Wasn't planning on the Terragen showing up." He fired a pulse of ionized energy from his left ZP gauntlet. "But hey, I don't mind adding you to my list of kills."

The bolt of energy hit Geryon in the chest, throwing him down the street and crackled across the massive nova's body for a few seconds.

* * *

James remembered the first time, back before he erupted as a nova, he had felt pain similar to this. It was at a football game in Leeds and a riot broke out between fans. To be fair, he was part of it and he actually enjoyed being part of community the world media had dubbed "soccer hooligans", but that was until one of the other hooligans on the other side doused him with beer and then zapped his wet body with a tazer repeatedly, it felt like he was being burned and someone had spilled sulfuric acid on his body.

This was about a thousand times worse. Whenever he "powered up", he could feel the quantum energy coursing through his body, that M-R node in his brain that channeled the quantum that gave him his monstrous form and abilities, it was like a constant adrenaline rush. Except, now that energy seemed to rip through his body, causing him to convulse for a few seconds. If he wanted to find the perfect metaphor, it was as if someone had dipped all his nerve endings in molten lava. And while the pain only lasted a few seconds, it still fucking hurt!

"Damn," the armored figure said as he approached where James had landed, but stopping at least a dozen feet away. "You're body's kicking out a shitload of quantum energy there, pal. I'm sure it makes you a bad-ass in the nova community, but it's a fucking handicap when dealing with me."

James didn't say anything. Instead, he rolled up into a couch and then lunged forward at the man. It only took a moment and, under normal circumstances, he would have had his hands around the target's throat and proceeded to rip their head off. He was only inches away from the man when he was suddenly wrapped in a blue field and held in place.

"What the-ARRRRGH!" He screamed as he felt that searing pain throughout his entire body.

"Ow," laughed his tormentor. "Sounds like it hurts like a bitch, here...lie down."

James was suddenly thrown through a city bus.

"No, wait, not there...how about over here?"

He was then picked up and catapulted through a storefront.

"Nope, on second thought, back out here is good."

The invisible field picked him up and brought him close to his attacker, but he found that he couldn't move. The pain had subsided, but his whole body had gone numb.

"Who...are..you?" he managed to choke out.

"Well, I could say that I'm your worst nightmare, your nemesis, the man who will annihilate your kind off the face of the earth, but that would be rather cliché, don't you think?" The armored man leaned forward, his helmet's visor only inches from James' face. "But you can call me Gabriel."

"I'll call...you...dead." To emphasize his point, James actually managed to bring his left arm up and tried to grab Gabriel, only to be awarded with another wave of searing pain.

Gabriel shook his head and chuckled. "Shit, Geryon, that's fucking impressive. Even Mr. Incredible couldn't move in my little Quantum field." He paused for a moment, his helmeted head tilted to one side as if he were considering something. "You know, I don't know why they call it Quantum energy instead of Zero Point Energy...I always thought that sounded cooler. Not that it matters, I can manipulate quantum, and the fact that your body kicks out so much of it pretty much allows me to control it."

James' eyes narrowed. "Really?" he asked as a desperate plan suddenly went through his head. "Using my own quantum against me?"

"Wow, you're not as dumb as you look," Gabriel snickered. "That's pretty much it."

"Good to know," James said. He knew it was a desperate attempt, maybe suicidal, but it was now or never. He concentrated for a moment, willing his body to "dorm down".

* * *

The field surrounding Geryon suddenly went down. With no quantum energy there for his ZP gauntlets to immediately manipulate, the field went down, releasing its hold on the wiry shirtless young man wearing tattered jeans.

 _ **Warning...field re-calibration required...**_

"What the fuck-" was all Buddy got out as the other man swung at him, suddenly morphing back into his monstrous form before his fist connected to Buddy's helmet.

Even with the personal field, the sheer force of the blow actually snapped his head to the side.

 _ **Warning...protective shell breached...**_

That was confirmed as the visor on his helmet cracked, robbing him of his HUD. His body flying through two buildings was another clue that things weren't going well. He actually felt the impact on his spine when he landed. The protective field was still working, but it was weakening. If it wasn't working, he'd have been a greasy smear on the street by now.

He brought up his right arm and checked the small display screen on the gauntlet as he stumbled back to his feet. _Okay, almost time to go, those missiles should be here soon._

Unfortunately for Buddy, that was enough time for Geryon to catch up to him. Before he could bring up another field, Geryon had actually managed to grab Buddy by the right arm and slam him into the ground.

"Ow," Buddy managed to wince.

* * *

"Talk and I'll end it quickly for you," James growled. He could feel a slight burning sensation in his hands where he gripped the man's arm, but he could tell the field was starting to collapse. "Who are you? Why are you doing this?"

"Well, to be honest, killing an entire T2M cell and destroying the lemmings of Mexico City dumb enough to worship Utopia...it's going to look good to my clients."

"Clients?" James repeated. "Who are you working for?"

"Sorry, can't do that," Gabriel chuckled. "That would be a violation of my ethics."

"You killed an entire team of novas and a bunch of baselines for what...an audition?"

"Actually, it was mostly for shits and grins, but what do you care? After all, you Terats don't care much for Utopia, and the baselines," Gabriel shrugged at him, "the world can do with a few million less of them, don't you think? After all, they're just monkeys, right?"

James didn't like where this conversation was headed. True, he didn't care for the novas who, in his opinion, "sold out" to Utopia, but he never wanted to destroy them. As for the baselines, he didn't care about them either and didn't matter if any died as part of any "collateral" damage, especially if they deliberately stood in his way.

But this was different, he could feel it. This was more on the scale of mass genocide, and this prick was claiming it was "mostly for shits and grins".

 _Not anymore._

James grinned at him as he tightened his grip on Gabriel's right arm. "You're right, they're just monkeys, but I'm sure they won't mind if I rip various appendages off your body." He then pulled on Gabriel's arm, ignoring the burning pain his hands and laughing as he ripped the man's arm off.

"SHIT!" Gabriel screamed as his arm was ripped off his body, then he started laughing.

It took James a moment to realize what was going on until he noticed the sparks coming from the severed arm and that it was a cybernetic limb. Then it suddenly exploded, knocking him off his feet.

"Well," he heard Gabriel say, "that was rather anticlimactic."

James blinked a couple times to get his vision to clear from the bright flash of the explosion. He saw Gabriel, now missing one arm, airborne, floating several feet above him. "This isn't over, you bastard!" James roared as he threw a chunk of concrete at the battered figure who calmly dodged the attack.

"Actually, it is," Gabriel said, pointing up at the sky. "Enjoy the show." He then shot further up into the sky, heading east.

Then he saw something else, three objects coming from the east. His eyes widened in horror as he realized what he was looking at.

 _Oh god! Missiles!_

He watched them soar overhead, passing his his location as they headed for the heart of the city. Then he heard the impact as they hit. For a moment, he was expecting to see a bright flash and something along the lines of a nuclear explosion, but that never came. Instead, he felt something deep within the ground, three distinct, but muffled explosions...then nothing.

"Okay," he said, "not what I was expecting."

Then he heard a rumbling, and then felt it, as the ground suddenly rippled around him before exploding. He could hear people screaming and the rending of steel as other buildings began to topple.

 _Oh bloody hell, the fucker started an earthquake!_

A shadow suddenly fell over James, causing him to look up just in time to see a ten story building coming down on him.

"Oh Shit!" he screamed before the building fell on him, burying him as the rest of the city started to tear itself apart.


	12. We Be Havin' a Revival Meetin'YeeHaw!

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Aberrant, White Wolf does. Don't own Incredibles, Pixar/Disney does. Come to think of it, I don't own any of the characters who show up at all in this particular installment. "Land of Confusion", performed by Disturbed, originally written by Phill Collins and Genesis (damn, talk about recycling oldies!).

* * *

 _Flash Point – Noun_

 _The lowest temperature at which the vapor of a combustible liquid can be made to ignite momentarily in air._

 _The point at which eruption into significant action, creation, or violence occurs._

 _In international relations, a flash point is an area or dispute that has a strong possibility of developing into a war. As with the laws of physics, for something like that to occur, pressure and heat have to be applied. In this new world we live in, there is plenty of pressure and heat provided from both sides, both nova and baseline alike._

 _Most of us, I would like to believe, would do anything we can to avoid such a situation. However, there are some of the baseline community who want to see this happen and, sadly, there are some of my fellow Teragen members who would also want this to come to pass._

 _Sadly, while I know most of the world is filled with sane and rational beings, I know that all it will take is just actions of a few to ignite. Some would claim it's for 'the greater good', but I feel that those people who actually start that fire are more interested in watching the world burn than assisting in any cause._

 _The numbers don't lie, the equations are solid, the logic is sound. No matter what we do to stave off the inevitable, it won't stop it._

-From the Private Journal of Pedro Santiago, "The Mathematician"

* * *

 _ **Somewhere in Texas**_

Buddy took a moment to compose himself before he walked out onto the stage. Already, he could hear people chanting "Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel" and he couldn't help smiling at that. He had chosen that name as a private joke because he was dealing with the Michaelites, he didn't intend for it to become his new identity.

And yet, only a couple weeks later, the name and his actions catapulted him to rock-star status among the thousands of members within the movement. Yes, there were members of the leadership who didn't trust him, but most of the rank and file members saw him as a hero. Within hours of his attack on Mexico City, various Michaelite compounds were already preaching sermons about him and how he was sent by the Lord in their time of need.

 _Damn, had I known that I would get this kind of momentum so quickly, I would have given up trying to be a hero and taken up religion sooner._

He managed to stifle a chuckle at that thought. A large screen had been erected behind the stage, showing the images of his handiwork in San Francisco and Mexico City. In the background, Willie Nelson's somber version of "Amazing Grace" was being played as various images taken from news clips and raw video footage of those events played across the screen. It was surreal to hear a normally uplifting song being played in such a way and being used as a soundtrack for his accomplishments, but he liked it…and so did the members of the congregation.

It was a relatively small gathering in this old building that had once been a Unitarian church until the Michaelites had acquired it. Maybe fifteen…sixteen hundred people, mostly standing room only, were there. Then there were the other Michaelite compounds that were receiving this sermon via encrypted satellite transmission and on-line. All told, at least half a million people were watching this from other locations such as this and who knew how many countless others would be watching this on-line via streaming video.

Obviously, Piper spared no expense when setting this gathering up and Buddy appreciated that. He felt it was kind of odd that, given the devastation that hit the world in the last couple weeks, he was in a building where spirits were high and people were celebrating.

 _Then again, I was responsible for most of the devastation, but the sheep here don't have to know about that. Although, I'm sure some of the real die-hard fanatics are probably saying the Indian Ocean disaster was God's will…but hey, whatever works!_

As the music ended, Buddy performed a last-second check of the ZP gauntlets he wore on each forearm. Like his newly rebuilt cybernetic arm, he had redesigned them to be sleeker and more functional. They could be easily concealed by wearing a jacket, but he decided not to wear one. Instead, he stood there, wearing cargo pants, a t-shirt and work boots. He had considered putting an artificial flesh-skin cover over his arm, but dismissed that idea almost immediately because it would ruin the image he tried to project.

 _Besides, didn't have time to "flesh" it up, it's been a busy week. Let them see the arm and the scars…it just adds to the image._

And what an image it was. He knew that he probably appeared to be some sort of resistance leader, especially with the shoulder-holster and the slight muscular physique he had acquired while working out in the prison gym. Overall, he was certain that his image intimidated his audience but, combined with the images displaying the devastation he had brought down on San Francisco and Mexico City, also inspired a sense of awe.

 _And look at them…they're so giddy, so full of anticipation. This is going to be fun._

He smiled slightly before taking a neutral expression as he stepped onto the stage. He intentionally avoided getting behind the podium, instead standing off to one side. A quick tap on the small headset he wore activated the headset's tiny microphone. He waited several more seconds as he was hit with a loud roar of approval from the mass of people in front of him.

 _Oh god…this is awesome. Now I know how those idiot pro-wrestlers on television feel like._

He closed his eyes and struck a small pose, as if he were momentarily basking in the energy being felt in that facility. Finally, after he had motioned for them to quiet down with a wave of his arms, the crowd went silent.

 _Better make it good, Buddy, or they will eat you alive._

"My friends," he said quietly, in a deliberate awkward moment, as if he were uncertain. "My brothers…my sisters," he continued, before pausing for a moment to look down at the ground and close his eyes as he took a deep breath and…

"Mah fellow human bein's!" he drawled.

His sudden loud proclamation ignited another roar of approval that was more deafening than the first. He allowed himself a small chuckle as he waited for the crowd to calm down.

"Oh, what a week it's been," he said, drawing some chuckles from the audience. "First it was San Francisco, then it was Mexico City, and now, here I am, taking a breather and talking to you. No, I'm not here to bask in the glow of your adoration…I mean, let's be honest. Until this last week, it's a safe bet that all of you gathered here and around the world had never even heard of me."

There were some hesitant murmurs in the crowd, but Buddy ignored them, continuing on.

"In fact, let me ask you this one important question. Why are you cheering for me, a complete stranger who you had never even heard of until this moment? It's a fair question, right?" He pointed to some random man in the audience, a man in his late twenties or early thirties who looked like he worked as a mechanic. "You, the black haired guy…tell me, why do you cheer me?"

The man seemed to hesitate for a second.

"Aw, c'mon, it's okay, I'm not going to do anything to you, just answer the question."

"Well," the man said after some encouragement from his friends, "you killed a bunch of these freaks, made the world a better place."

His response got some cheers from audience and Buddy nodded, giving the man a tiny smile.

"Yes," Buddy said, "you could say that. And you people killed the Texas Tornado, but while I killed more novas, that doesn't make me different from you. The only reason for my accomplishment was my God given intellect and ability to build the tools needed."

 _Never mind the fact that I'm actually a nova myself, but I'm not going to tell you sheep that._

Again, his words drew applause and cheers from the crowded sanctuary, but they started to die down as he gave them a somber look and shook his head.

"It's time to be honest, folks, I don't deserve your praise and you shouldn't be too proud of what you did to Texas Tornado. The only reasons we managed to accomplish what we've done is because they were complacent and we were lucky. Now I'm not trying to demean what we've done, but think about it. Until now, we…yes we, my brothers and sisters, were looked upon as a joke, branded as members of a 'lunatic fringe' by the false gods and their masters. They underestimated us, and we made them pay for it with their own blood."

Cheers erupted from the crowd and Buddy had to force himself to keep a serious expression on his face and not chuckle as he heard several "amens" in the crowd.

"But now," he continued, his somber tone obviously beginning to affect the crowd because the cheering had quickly faded, "the enemy knows they are being targeted. They know that we have declared war on them and they also realize that while we may pose the threat, they still wield greater power, because most of the world is asleep and willing to let them control it. Very soon, in fact, I'm guessing maybe within minutes of this little gathering being mentioned, the world media sucking up to Utopia will portray us as the 'evil enemy', as hate-mongers, as something that needs to be dealt with. And you can bet that Utopia and its puppets in the United Nations will pressure people in our own government and the rest of our country to rise against us because 'it is the right and just thing to do'."

He shook his head again. "Against you, good people who have lost their jobs because Project Utopia deemed what they do as being 'not friendly to the environment'."

Nods of agreement and more than several "amens" were heard through the auditorium again.

"Against you, good people who lost their jobs because a single Utopia backed nova can do the work of twelve 'baseline' human beings."

Soft applause started to ripple through the audience as he randomly pointed to people in the audience.

"Against you, and you, and you, and you, good people who don't live in the big Utopia sponsored cities and prefer to work instead of being lazy and letting Utopia determine what you do, what you believe, and how you and your children should live."

The applause got louder and more intense, along with some shouts of affirmation.

"Against you!" Buddy was now starting to shout, not only to speak over the growing storm of cheers and applause, but because he was getting fired up at his own words. "Good people who see the devil's own for what they are and are willing to make a stand!"

By now, the deafening roar was back, louder than before. For a moment, Buddy let himself get lost in the energy and enthusiasm, enjoying it, but not letting himself falter because he didn't want to lose his chance to manipulate where this momentum was headed. He waited patiently for the roar to die down again.

"It is written," he said after the crowd quieted down enough for him to continue, "that there would be trials and tribulations at the end before a final judgment will be made." He paused again, giving the crowd another somber expression. "There are some, even here among us, who believe that we should do nothing, that we have done all we can, and that we should let the judgment come to pass." He held up a hand, as if to quell an argument. "Don't hold that against them, because a lot of us felt that at some point, but I'm sure they never expected the end to happen like this…none of us did.

"Make no mistake, people, this is not just a trial…this is THE trial. This is OUR trial, OUR baptism of fire. The good Lord did not put us here to simply stand by and watch as the false prophets trample us down and force their way on us, oh hell no! This, good people, is where we make our stand and prove that we are not weak lambs to be led to the slaughter."

Once again, applause started to ripple through the sanctuary, building up momentum.

"This, good people, is where we prove ourselves worthy of the Lord's blessings and we are willing to fight for what we believe in."

More "amens" and at least one "hallelujah, preach it, brother," could be heard. Buddy, didn't bother to hide his smile, because now he was really enjoying this.

"However, I am not ordering you all to blindly march in and die for the cause. No, I am not one of those leaders who psych you up, then sit back and order you to march on. In fact, I'm not even a leader." He paused again, letting that last comment sink in for a moment. "I'm just a man, a mortal like you. One who has seen where this world is headed, doesn't like it, and is willing to fight. I am one man among many of you, with specialized talents and gifts given by the Lord, willing to give it all I've got and see this battle through the end.

"Compared to the rest of the world who stands against us, we are few. And yet, we very few are the ones whose cause is righteous, my brothers and sisters. Each and every one of us knows that the final war has come and we stand on the front line. For those who stand there with me are truly my brothers and sisters and, as it has been said before, if God stands with us, who can truly stand against us?"

To punctuate that last comment, Buddy thrust his fist up in the air, the ZP gauntlet on his right forearm firing off a blue bolt of energy that exploded in a dazzling display of blue lightning above the crowd, causing them cheer and chant even louder. On a programmed cue, the building's sound system kicked on and Disturbed's version of "Land of Confusion" exploded through the speakers.

Buddy raised his arms triumphantly as the crowd cheered and he smiled.

 _Damn! This is a fucking rush!_

* * *

Three hours later, Buddy was once again standing on the stage in a now empty auditorium, tapping away on a lap-top that he had set up on the podium. He did a little bit of net-surfing and already saw that Viasoft's "LiveSearch" engine had registered the name "Gabriel" as being one of the top five searched topics. He checked Google and Yahoo as well and noted the same thing. A quick check of some of the various chat-rooms showed "Gabriel's Proclamation" (as it was called) was the subject of a lot of discussion. Some were even calling it the "Baseline's answer to Divis Mal's Null Manifesto".

He chuckled when he saw that. It's not every day that an on-the-spot monologue was suddenly turned into something epic.

 _And all I did was bastardize pro-wrestling promos, Shakespeare, Churchill, and various right-wing nut-jobs off the radio. Shit…I really should have gotten into this years ago!_

"I'm glad you find this amusing," he heard someone say.

Buddy turned and saw the four main leaders of the Michaelites walking onto the stage. He merely shrugged, but didn't get rid of the smile. "Well, I have to admit, I did have a little fun with that speech, Horton."

Theobald Horton scowled at him. "Do you realize what you've done?" he asked.

"Hey, Piper here wanted me to rally the troops and I did," Buddy replied. "You're just pissed because it wasn't you out there doing it."

Horton snarled at him, but Buddy ignored him. Though the man was an ass, Buddy knew he wasn't dumb enough to attack him and ruin the movement's chance to get a hold of his hardware.

 _Though killing and removing him from the gene-pool would be a service to humanity._

"By binding yourself to our cause, you have made us a target for Utopia and its allies." This time, it was Milo Arboghast that spoke. Buddy knew the man didn't like him, but carefully hid his hostility behind a cold mask of neutrality. "You have endangered us all with your theatrics, especially when video clips of your little 'sermon' go worldwide."

Buddy grinned at him. "I hope it goes worldwide…get the message out."

"But not like this," said Esteban Torano. "You went too fast too soon."

"Reluctantly," added Micah Piper, "I agree…we are not ready."

Buddy silently stared at them for a moment, then laughed and shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you people! You're the ones who wanted to take the war to the novas, and I'm helping you do that."

"Yes, but you moved to quickly," Piper said. "And our movement is not ready for this."

"When is anyone truly ready, Micah?" Buddy asked him. "After all, you've been preaching that you're fighting the good fight for the Lord, but all of you are operating a loose-knit operation that can easily be taken down piece by piece. If I hadn't come along, how long do you think it would be before someone like Utopia or the Teragen decided to take you down? How long do you think you could actually last in a fight? And don't tell me that you took down Tornado, because let's face it, the man was a drunk and you ambushed him after he had a few kegs."

"And who the hell do you think you are?" Horton snapped. "You waltz in out of nowhere and think you can take over?"

Buddy shook his head; the grin never left his face. "Actually, I don't want to take over. You want to be preachers and leaders of your movement, that's fine. I'll just stick to killing novas. Speaking of your movement, that's one of your main problems."

"Care to explain that one?" Piper asked.

"You told me that I should rally the movement, but that's not what you need. You need an army, and that's what I was doing tonight, raising you one." Buddy reached over and removed a flash-drive from the laptop. He held it for a moment, looking as if he were reconsidering something, then handed it to Piper. "Your 'movement', Piper, is no longer a movement. Until tonight, you were looked upon as a joke, a loose-knit collection of radical bible-thumper rednecks and militia whack-jobs that nobody took seriously. That's all going to change."

"What's this?"

"That, Piper, is the records of several members of your group, all I have selected have military experience, seven of them specifically tagged because I can use them in a leadership and training capacity."

"And what do you intend to do with them?" Oddly enough, the question came from Torano, and he actually sounded curious instead of hostile.

"I told you, I intend to share my technology and provide you with an arsenal to carry on your crusade. These people have experience with small unit operations. Now that they're getting some decent hardware, we'll be able to take things up a notch." Buddy then shut down and closed up his laptop before turning to reface the others. "You see, gentlemen, I meant what I said, we're at war. You have taught that to your followers and now it seems like you yourselves are reluctant to follow your own teachings. I'm sure your followers would really hate it if you started to look like a group of hypocrites."

"Watch your tone, boy," Horton warned, "or I'll-"

"You'll what?" Buddy snapped back at him, cutting him off. "You think just because you're a 'leader'," he made imaginary "air-quotes" with his fingers when he said the word _leader_ , "that you will probably order someone to take me down because I'm a threat to your 'movement'? Go ahead. The people who follow you know what I've done and you've taken great pains to point out my accomplishments to them, all the while making it look like you had helped orchestrate those attacks."

He smiled at them again.

"Get rid of me, and they might see me as a martyr betrayed by their own leaders."

Buddy studied the faces of the four men in front of them. Though Horton's face showed hatred, the fear in his eyes at Buddy calling his bluff was obvious. Torano also seemed concerned, but also curious. Arboghast's face was a cold mask of neutrality, but Buddy could see something cold and calculating in that man's eyes.

 _Okay, there's something off with this guy...not sure what it is, but he's not a cowardly wuss like Torano and Horton. He seems willing to get his hands dirty, but also views me as a possible threat. Well...he's right, but I'm not going to tell him that._

It was Piper's reaction that caught Buddy off guard. The old man was actually laughing with real amusement.

"I have to hand it to you, Gabriel, you've done a very good job motivating the troops," Piper said. "My only concern is that your actions, and subsequent speech might attract attention and prompt retaliation that we might not be ready for."

Buddy thought about it for a second and nodded. "Understandable," he replied, "but I wouldn't worry too much about it. I have a few 'side projects' planned that will discourage certain governmental bodies from focusing too much attention on us."

"What kind of 'side-projects'?" This time it was Arboghast that asked the question.

Buddy chuckled and shook his head. "Relax, gentlemen, nothing to worry yourselves too much about. Let's just call it a 'gathering of essential resources'." He then turned and grabbed his laptop. He started to walk away, but stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. "Just remember, gentlemen," he said, his voice taking an icy tone of finality, "we're in this together now. As the old saying goes: 'United we stand, divided we fall'...it's your call."

The others said nothing as he walked away. It wasn't until he exited the auditorium that Horton spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. "This is wrong," he finally said. "That man is insane."


End file.
